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LIBRARY 


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SAN  DIEGO 


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861 


REMINISCENCES 
OF  A  PIONEER 


BY 

COLONEL  WILLIAM  THOMPSON 

Editor  Alturas,  Cal.,  Plaindealer 


SAN  FRANaSCO 
1912 


CONTENTS 


Chapter  Page 

I    Farewell  to  the  Old  Southern  Home 1 

II    First  Winter  in  the  Willamette  Valley 11 

III  Indian  Outbreak  of  1855 19 

IV  In  Which  Various  Experiences  Are  Discussed...  30 
V     Taking  Revenge  on  Marauding  Snakes 48 

VI    One  Sad  Tale  From  Canyon  City  History 59 

VII     Col.  Thompson's  First  Newspaper  Venture 70 

VIII     History  of  the  Modoc  Indians 75 

IX     The  Ben  Wright  Massacre 80 

X     Treaty  With  the  Modocs  Made 84 

XI     Battle  in  the  Lava  Beds 94 

XII     The  Peace  Commission's  Work 109 

XIII  Three  Days  Battle  in  the  Lava  Beds 115 

XIV  Trailing  the  Fugitives 124 

XV     The  Great  Bannock  War 132 

XVI     Snake  Uprising  in  Eastern  Oregon 144 

XVII     Bannocks  Double  on  Their  Tracks 149 

XVIII    Another  Attack  That  Miscarried 159 

XIX     Reign  of  the  Vigilantes 167 

XX     Passing  of  the  Mogans 175 

XXI     The  Lookout  Lynching 178 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Colonel  William  Thompson Frontispiece 

(From  photo  taken  at  close  of  Bannock  War) 

Typical  Scene  in  the  Lava  Beds : 32 

Runway  and  Fort  in  Lava  Beds 64 

Captain  Jack's  Cave  in  the  Lava  Beds 64 

Captain  Jack 96 

(From  photo  belonging  to  Jas.  D.  Fairchild,  Yreka,  Cal.) 

Colonel  William  Thompson 128 

(From  photo  taken  at  close  of  Modoc  War) 


FOREWORD 


So  rapidly  is  the  Far  West  changing  character,  our 
pioneers  should  feel  in  duty  bound  to  preserve  all  they  can 
of  its  early  history.  Many  of  them  are  giving  relics  of 
frontier  days  to  museums  and  historical  societies.  And  they 
do  well.  Yet  such  collections  are  unfortunately  accessible 
to  only  the  few.  Hence  they  do  better  who  preserve  the 
living  narratives  of  their  times.  For  however  unpretentious 
from  the  cold  aspect  of  literary  art,  these  narratives  breathe 
of  courage  and  fortitude  amid  hardships  and  perils,  and  tell 
as  nothing  else  can  of  the  hopes  and  dreams  of  the  hardy 
pathfinders,  and  of  the  compensations  and  pleasures  found  in 
their  sacrifices. 

It  is  with  this  end  in  view,  to  preserve  the  life  of  the  old 
days  in  its  many  colors,  that  these  recollections  are  penned. 
There  was  more  to  this  life  than  has  been  touched  by  the 
parlor  romancers  or  makers  of  moving-picture  films.  Per- 
haps some  day  these  memories  may  serve  to  illumine  the 
historian  delving  in  the  human  records  of  the  past.  And 
perhaps,  also,  and  this  is  the  author's  dearest  wish,  they 
may  inspire  young  readers  to  hold  to  the  hardy  traditions 
of  the  'Fifties  and  to  keep  this  spirit  alive  in  a  country  des- 
tined soon  to  be  densely  peopled  with  newcomers  from  the 
long-settled  parts  of  the  world. 


COL.  WILLIAM  THOMPSON 

From  a  photograph  at  the  close  of  the  Bannock  war 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 


CHAPTER  I. 

FAREWELL  TO  THE  OLD  SOUTHERN   HOME. 

I  HAVE  often  wondered,  when  viewing  a  modern  passenger 
coach,  with  its  palace  cars,  its  sleeping  and  dining  cars,  if 
those  who  cross  the  "Great  American  Desert,"  from  the 
Mississippi  to  the  Pacific  in  four  days,  realize  the  hardships, 
dangers  and  privations  of  the  Arognauts  of  fifty-eight  years 
ago.  The  "Plains"  were  then  an  unbroken  wilderness  of 
three  thousand  miles,  inhabited  by  hordes  of  wild  Indians, 
and  not  too  friendly  to  the  white  man  journeying  through  his 
country. 

The  trip  then  required  careful  preparation — oxen, 
wagons,  provisions,  arms  and  ammunition  must  be  first  of 
all  provided.  These  were  essentials,  and  woe  to  the  hapless 
immigrant  who  neglected  these  provisions.  To  be  stranded 
a  thousand  miles  from  the  "settlements"  was  a  fate  none 
but  the  most  improvident  and  reckless  cared  to  hazard. 

It  is  to  recount  some  of  the  trials,  adventures,  hardships, 
privations,  as  I  remember  them,  that  these  lines  are  written. 
For  truly,  the  immigrants  of  the  early  50's  were  the  true 
"Conquerors  of  the  Wilderness."  Cutting  loose  from  home 
and  civilization,  their  all,  including  their  women  and  child- 
ren, loaded  into  wagons,  and  drawn  by  slow-moving  ox 
teams,  they  fearlessly  braved  three  thousand  miles  of  almost 
trackless  wilderness. 


2  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

As  a  small  boy  I  remember  the  first  mention  of  California, 
the  land  of  gold.  My  father  returned  from  New  Orleans 
in  January.  On  board  the  steamer  coming  up  the  Mississippi 
river,  he  had  fallen  in  with  some  gentlemen  "returning  to 
the  States."  They  had  given  him  a  glowing  description  of 
the  "land  of  gold,"  and  almost  the  first  words  spoken  after 
the  family  greetings  were  over  was,  "We  are  going  to  Cali- 
fornia in  the  spring."  My  mother  was  more  than  agreeable 
and  from  that  time  nothing  was  talked  or  thought  of  but 
the  journey  to  California.  The  old  refrain  was  sung  from 
morning  to  night, 

"In  the  spring  we  're  going  to  journey, 
Far  away  to  California." 

My  chum,  Tant,  a  negro  boy  of  my  own  age,  and  I 
seriously  discussed  the  prospects  and  dangers  of  the  journey. 
Direful  tales  of  the  tomahawk  and  scalping  knife  were 
recounted  by  the  older  children.  But  Tant's  fears  were 
allayed  by  the  assurance  that  the  "Injuns"  would  not  kill 
and  scalp  a  black  boy  with  a  woolly  head.  For  once  in 
my  life  I  envied  that  imp  of  darkness. 

In  February  a  gentleman  came  to  our  home  and  after 
dinner  he  and  my  father  rode  over  the  plantation.  The  next 
morning  they  rode  over  to  Bolliver,  the  county  seat.  Re- 
turning in  the  evening  my  father  announced  that  the  planta- 
tion was  sold.  Then  began  the  real  preparations  for  the 
journey.  My  father  was  •  constantly  in  the  saddle.  Oxen, 
wagons,  ox  yokes,  ox  bows,  cattle,  covers  for  wagons,  arms, 
ammunition  and  provisions  were  purchased  and  brought  to 
the  plantation.  AH  was  hurry  and  excitement.  Two  shoe- 
makers came  to  our  home  to  make  up  the  leather  purchased 
at  St.  Louis  or  from  neighboring  tanneries.  Meantime  Aunt 
Ann  and  the  older  girls  of  the  family  were  busy  spinning 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  3 

and  weaving.  Every  article  of  wearing  apparel  must  be 
made  at  home.  "Store  clothes"  were  out  of  the  question 
in  those  days.  Wool  must  be  carded  and  spun  into  thread 
for  Aunt  Ann's  old  wooden  loom.  The  cloth  was  then 
fashioned  into  garments  for  clothing  to  last  a  year  after  we 
should  reach  our  goal  far  out  on  the  Pacific  shores.  The 
clank  of  the  old  wooden  loom  was  almost  ceaseless.  Merrily 
the  shuttle  sang  to  an  accompaniment  of  a  camp  meeting 
melody.  Neighbors  also  kindly  volunteered  their  services  in 
weaving  and  fashioning  garments  for  the  family.  All  was 
bustle  and  hurry. 

At  last  all  was  in  readiness  for  the  start.  Spring  with  all 
its  beauty  and  glory  was  with  us,  and  friends  from  the 
country  round  and  about  had  come  to  bid  us  a  final  fare- 
well— friends,  alas,  we  were  destined  never  to  meet  again. 
The  parting  I  remember  as  the  first  real  sorrow  of  a  life 
that  has  experienced  most  of  the  hardships,  dangers,  priva- 
tions and  sufferings  of  a  wild  frontier  life.  It  was  a  beauti- 
ful morning  early  in  April,  1852,  that  the  leaders  were 
pointed  to  the  west  and  a  start  was  made.  Four  wagons 
were  drawn  by  five  yoke  of  oxen  each,  while  the  fifth,  the 
family  wagon,  was  drawn  by  three  yoke. 

The  first  weeks  of  our  journey  were  passed  without  any- 
thing happening  worthy  of  note.  At  Caw  river  we  were 
detained  several  days  by  high  water.  Here  we  began  fall- 
ing in  with  others,  who,  like  ourselves,  were  bound  for  the 
golden  shores  of  the  Pacific.  And  it  was  here  that  we  made 
the  acquaintance  of  families,  and  friendships  formed  that 
were  to  survive  not  only  the  privations  of  the  plains  but  were 
to  last  a  life  time.  Men  were  drawn  together  on  the  plains 
as  in  the  everyday  walks  of  life,  only  the  bonds  were  closer 
and  far  more  enduring.  The  very  dangers  through  which 


4  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

they  passed  together  rendered  the  ties  more  lasting.  "Our 
train"  henceforth  consisted  of  my  father's,  Littleton  Younger, 
John  Cant,  "Uncle"  Johnny  Thompson  and  a  party  of  five 
Welsh  gentlemen,  under  the  leadership  of  a  gentleman 
named  Fathergill,  and  a  prince  of  a  gentleman  he  was.  At 
that  time  there  was  not  a  cabin  in  what  is  now  the  great  and 
populous  State  of  Kansas.  Only  vast  undulating  plains, 
waving  with  grass,  traversed  here  and  there  with  timber- 
skirted  streams.  Game  was  abundant,  consisting  mostly  of 
antelope  and  prairie  chickens.  Our  Welsh  friends,  being 
bachelors  and  having  no  loose  stock,  were  the  hunters  for 
the  train,  and  supplied  us  with  an  abundance  of  fresh  meat. 

As  we  proceeded  westward  more  immigrants  were  met, 
and  often  our  camp  resembled  a  tented  city.  All  was  then 
a  pleasure  trip — a  picnic,  as  it  were.  No  sooner  was  camp 
struck  than  a  place  was  cleared  and  dancing  began  to  the 
sound  of  the  violin.  Many  of  these  young  ladies  were  well 
dressed — actually  wore  "store  clothes!"  But  alas,  and  alack, 
I  was  destined  to  see  these  same  young  ladies  who  started 
out  so  gay  and  care-free,  in  tattered  dresses,  barefooted  and 
dusty,  walking  and  driving  the  loose  cattle.  Too  many 
excursions  and  pleasure  jaunts  had  reduced  their  horses  to 
skeletons  before  the  real  trials  of  the  journey  had  fairly 
begun.  But  the  women  of  *52  and  '53  were  not  of  the 
namby-pamby  sort.  When  the  trials  came  they  were  brave 
and  faced  privations  and  dangers  with  the  same  fortitude  as 
their  stronger  brothers. 

At  Fort  Laramie  we  crossed  the  Platte  river  by  fording. 
The  stream,  as  I  remember  it,  was  near  a  mile  wide,  but  not 
waist  deep.  Thirty  and  forty  oxen  were  hitched  to  one 
wagon,  to  effect  the  crossing.  But  woe  to  the  hapless  team 
that  stalled  in  the  treacherous  quicksands.  They  must  be 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  5 

kept  going,  as  it  required  but  a  short  stop  for  the  treacherous 
sands  to  engulf  team  and  wagon  alike.  Men  wading  on 
either  side  of  the  string  of  oxen  kept  them  moving,  and  soon 
all  were  safely  on  the  north  side  of  the  Platte  river. 

We  soon  began  to  see  great  herds  of  buffalo.  In  fact, 
at  times  the  hills  were  black  with  the  heaving,  rolling,  bellow- 
ing mass,  and  no  meal  was  served  for  many  days  without 
fresh  buffalo.  As  we  wended  our  way  up  the  valley  of  the 
Platte  one  could  look  back  for  miles  and  miles  on  a  line  of 
wagons,  the  sinuous  line  with  vari-colored  wagon  covers  re- 
sembling a  great  serpent  crawling  and  wriggling  up  the 
valley.  Fortunately  for  "our  train"  we  were  well  in  ad- 
vance and  thus  escaped  the  sickness  that  later  dotted  the 
valley  of  the  Platte  with  graves. 

On  and  on.  Independence  Rock,  Sweet  Water,  and 
Devil's  Gate  were  passed.  Members  of  our  train  had  ob- 
served two  men  who  traveled  with  us,  yet  held  themselves 
aloof.  They  appeared  to  prefer  their  own  company,  and 
while  they  traveled  along  with  us,  probably  for  protection, 
they  always  camped  by  themselves.  Some  said  they  were 
Mormons,  while  others  asserted  they  were  merely  a  selfish 
pair.  One  day  one  of  the  men  was  missing.  The  other  on 
being  questioned  gave  evasive  and  very  unsatisfactory  re- 
plies. His  actions  excited  the  suspicions  of  our  men.  He 
appeared  anxious  to  get  ahead  and  left  us,  making  a  long 
night  drive.  It  was  then  determined  to  make  an  investigation. 
Two  of  our  party  mounted  good  horses  and  started  back  on 
the  trail.  Each  camp  was  carefully  examined  until  they 
were  rewarded  by  finding  the  body  of  a  murdered  man  be- 
neath the  ashes  of  a  camp  fire,  buried  in  a  shallow  grave. 
By  riding  all  night  they  overtook  the  train,  before  starting 
back  burying  the  body  of  the  unfortunate  traveler.  The 
news  spread  rapidly  and  a  party  followed  the  murderer.  He 


6  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

was  soon  overtaken  and  halted  at  the  muzzles  of  rifles.  When 
the  train  came  up  a  council  was  held.  Probably  a  hundred 
wagons  were  halted.  It  was  determined  to  give  the  man  a 
trial.  The  evidence  was  conclusive,  and  after  conviction  the 
miserable  wretch  confessed  all,  but  begged  for  mercy.  He 
said  the  murdered  man  had  picked  him  up  out  of  pity  and 
was  taking  him  through  for  his  company  and  his  help.  There 
being  no  trees,  three  wagons  were  run  together,  the  wagon 
tongues  being  raised  to  form  a  tripod  and  to  answer  for  a 
gallows.  To  the  center  of  the  tripod  a  rope  was  attached 
with  the  other  end  around  the  neck  of  the  trembling,  writhing, 
begging  wretch.  But  he  had  committed  a  cruel,  cold- 
blooded murder  and  his  crime  could  not  be  condoned.  He 
was  stood  on  the  back  of  a  horse,  and  a  sharp  cut  being 
given  the  animal  the  wretch  was  swung  into  eternity.  A 
grave  had  been  dug  and  into  this  the  body  of  the  murderer 
was  placed.  The  property  of  the  murdered  man  was  taken 
through  to  the  settlements.  His  relatives  were  communicated 
with,  the  property  sold  and  the  proceeds  sent  to  the  proper 
owners.  Such  was  the  swift  but  terrible  justice  administered 
on  the  plains.  Without  law  or  officers  of  the  law,  there  was 
no  other  course  to  pursue  consistent  with  safety  to  the  living. 
July  4th,  1852,  we  reached  Green  river.  Traders  had 
established  six  ferry  boats  at  the  crossing.  In  order  to  keep 
down  competilion,  five  of  the  boats  were  tied  up  and  the  sum 
of  $18  was  demanded  for  each  and  every  wagon  ferried 
over  the  stream.  They  had  formed  a  kind  of  "trust,"  as 
it  were,  even  in  that  day.  The  rate  was  pronounced 
exorbitant,  unfair,  outrageous,  and  beyond  the  ability  of 
many  to  pay.  Train  after  train  had  been  blocked  until  a 
city  of  tents  had  been  formed.  On  the  morning  of  the  4th 
a  meeting  of  immigrants  was  called  to  discuss  the  situation. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  7 

A  few  counselled  moderation,  compromise,  anything  to  pre- 
vent a  clash  with  the  traders,  who  boasted  that  they  could 
turn  the  Indians  loose  on  us.  The  great  majority  defied  both 
traders  and  Indians  and  boldly  announced  that  they  would 
fight  before  they  would  submit  to  being  robbed.  Many  fiery 
speeches  were  made,  and  about  10  o'clock  a  long  line  of 
men,  with  shouldered  rifles  flashing  in  the  sun,  marched  down 
and  took  possession  of  the  ferry  boats.  The  traders  fumed 
and  threatened,  and  Indians  with  war-whoops  and  yells 
mounted  horses  and  rode  off  from  the  opposite  side.  The 
traders  said  they  were  going  after  the  tribe  to  exterminate  the 
entire  train.  They  were  plainly  told  that  the  first  shot  fired 
by  traders  or  Indians  would  sound  their  own  death  knell — 
that  they,  the  traders,  would  be  shot  down  without  mercy. 

The  ferry  boats  were  then  siezed  and  the  work  of  crossing 
the  river  began.  As  fast  as  the  wagons  were  crossed  over 
they  were  driven  down  the  river,  one  behind  another,  forming 
a  corral,  with  the  open  side  facing  the  river  in  the  form  of  a 
half  wheel.  When  the  wagons  had  all  been  crossed,  the 
loose  stock  was  swum  over  into  the  opening.  There  was  no 
confusion,  but  everything  proceeded  with  almost  military 
precision.  A  committee  had  been  appointed  to  keep  tally 
on  the  number  of  wagons  crossed  on  the  boats.  The  traders 
were  then  paid  $4  for  each  and  every  wagon.  Still  they 
fumed  and  threatened.  The  faces  of  the  more  timid 
blanched  and  a  few  women  were  in  tears.  I  beheld  the 
whole  proceedings  with  childish  wonder.  But  the  circum- 
stances of  that  4th  of  July  and  the  execution  of  the  murderer 
were  burned  into  my  brain  with  letters  of  fire,  never  to  be 
effaced  while  memory  holds  her  sway. 

Every  man  was  under  arms  that  night.  Horses  were  tied 
up  and  the  work  oxen  chained  to  the  wagons,  a  strict  guard 


8  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

being  kept  on  the  traders  in  the  mean  time.  The  next  morn- 
ing the  long  string  of  wagons  started  out  on  the  road.  Two 
hundred  men  rode  on  either  side  to  defend  the  train,  while 
scouting  parties  rode  at  a  distance  to  guard  against  surprise. 
This  formation  was  kept  up  for  several  days,  but  seeing 
neither  traders  nor  Indians  the  different  trains  separated  and 
each  went  its  way  unmolested. 

Bear  river  and  Soda  Springs  were  next  passed.  A  few 
miles  this  side  of  Soda  Springs  the  roads  forked,  one  going 
to  California  and  the  other  to  Oregon.  Here  a  council  was 
held.  A  portion  of  "our  train"  wanted  to  take  the  Cali- 
fornia road.  Others  preferred  the  Oregon  route.  A  vote 
was  taken  and  resulted  in  a  majority  for  Oregon,  and  associa- 
tion and  friendship  being  stronger  than  mere  individual  prefer- 
ence, all  moved  out  on  the  Oregon  road. 

Snake  river  was  finally  reached,  and  here  the  real  trials  of 
the  journey  began.  From  some  cause,  not  then  understood, 
our  oxen  began  to  die.  The  best  and  fattest  died  first,  often 
two  and  three  in  one  camp.  Cows  were  drawn  into  the  yoke 
and  the  journey  resumed.  But  it  soon  became  evident  that 
loads  must  be  lightened.  Wagons  loaded  with  stores  and 
provisions  were  driven  to  the  side  of  the  road  and  an  invita- 
tion written  with  charcoal  for  all  to  help  themselves.  To  add 
to  the  difficulties  of  our  situation,  the  Snake  Indians  were 
surly  and  insolent  to  a  degree.  Gradually  a  gloom  settled 
over  all.  No  more  of  laughter,  of  dancing  and  song.  And 
faster  and  faster  the  oxen  died.  Camping  places  were  almost 
unbearable  on  account  of  the  dead  and  decaying  cattle. 
And  then  the  terrible  mountains  of  which  we  had  heard  so 
much  were  before  us.  Would  we  ever  reach  the  settlements  ? 
This  was  a  question  that  began  to  prey  upon  the  minds  of 
many.  A  few  of  the  young  men  shouldered  a  blanket  and 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  9 

some  provisions  and  started  on  foot  to  reach  the  valley. 
Others  began  to  despair  of  ever  reaching  the  promised  land. 
If  those  who  cross  the  continent  now  in  palace  cars  and  com- 
plain of  the  tediousness  of  the  journey  could  take  one  look 
at  the  wreck  and  desolation  that  lined  the  poisoned  banks  of 
Snake  river,  they  would  hide  their  heads  in  very  shame. 

As  our  situation  became  more  desperate  it  appeared  the 
Indians  became  more  sullen  and  mean.  Guards  were  kept 
night  and  day,  the  women  and  children  driving  the  teams  and 
loose  cattle  and  horses  in  order  that  the  men  might  get  some 
rest.  At  one  point  the  danger  seemed  imminent.  The  men 
on  night  guard  reported  that  the  horses  were  snorting  and 
acting  as  if  Indians  were  about.  Mr.  Fathergill's  mule 
appeared  especially  uneasy.  The  cattle  and  horses  were  then 
all  driven  to  camp,  the  horses  tied  up  and  the  oxen  chained 
to  the  wagons.  The  next  morning  moccasin  tracks  were  dis- 
covered within  a  hundred  yards  of  our  camp,  showing  plainly 
that  only  extreme  caution  and  foresight  had  saved  us  all 
from  massacre.  After  that  camps  were  selected  with  a  view 
to  defense.  A  point  was  finally  reached  where  we  were  to 
bid  farewell  to  the  dread  Snake  river.  Several  trains 
camped  there  that  night.  Among  them  was  a  man  named 
Wilson,  a  brother  of  ex-Senator  Henry  Wilson  of  Colusa 
county.  Cattle  had  been  rounded  up  and  oxen  placed  under 
the  yoke.  Wilson  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  with  a  young 
man  in  his  employ.  Suddenly  both  drew  revolvers  and  began 
firing  at  each  other.  The  duel  ended  by  Wilson  falling 
from  his  mule,  a  dead  man.  The  young  man  rode  away  and 
was  seen  no  more.  A  grave  was  dug,  the  dead  man  buried 
and  within  two  hours  the  train  was  in  motion.  There  was 
no  time  for  tears  or  ceremonies.  Winter  was  coming  on, 
and  the  terrible  mountains  must  be  crossed.  Besides  the 
dread  of  an  Indian  attack  was  ever  present. 


10  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

After  leaving  Snake  river  we  lost  no  more  cattle.  We 
crossed  the  Blue  Mountains  without  any  mishap.  We  met 
several  settlers  corning  out  with  teams  to  help  any  that  might 
be  in  distress.  They  were  told  to  go  on  back,  as  others  were 
behind  far  more  in  need  of  assistance  than  we.  On  reaching 
the  Columbia  river  we  found  the  Indians  very  friendly  and 
obtained  an  abundance  of  fresh  salmon.  Trifles  were  traded 
for  salmon  and  wild  currants,  which  formed  a  welcome  addi- 
tion to  our  bill  of  fare.  The  dreaded  Cascade  Mountains 
were  finally  reached.  A  storm  was  raging  on  the  mountain 
and  we  were  advised  by  settlers  whom  we  met  coming  out 
to  assist  the  immigrants,  to  wait  for  better  weather.  Some 
disregarded  the  advice  and  paid  dearly  for  their  temerity, 
losing  many  of  their  cattle,  and  only  for  the  help  rendered 
by  the  settlers  might  themselves  have  perished. 

As  soon  as  the  storm  spent  its  force  a  start  was  made  and 
the  dreaded  mountains  passed  in  six  days,  and  without  any 
serious  mishap.  On  reaching  the  valley  we  were  everywhere 
greeted  with  genuine  western  hospitality.  Vegetables  were 
plentiful  and  cheap — in  fact  could  be  had  for  the  asking. 
But  while  wheat  was  abundant  there  were  no  mills  to  grind 
it  into  flour,  and  we  soon  discovered  that  that  very  necessary 
article  could  not  be  had  for  love  or  money.  We  were 
therefore  soon  reduced  to  a  daily  diet  of  boiled  wheat, 
potatoes,  pumpkins  and  wild  meat,  the  latter  requiring  but 
little  exertion  to  secure.  But  we  were  as  well  off  as  any- 
body else,  and  with  the  remnants  of  clothing  saved  from  the 
wreck  of  the  desert  and  plains  passed  the  winter  in  health 
and  some  degree  of  comfort. 


CHAPTER   II. 

OUR  FIRST  WINTER  IN  THE  WILLAMETTE  VALLEY. 

The  winter  of  1852-53  will  forever  be  memorable  in 
the  annals  of  pioneer  days  in  Oregon.  Indeed,  nothing  com- 
parable had  been  experienced  by  immigrants  in  former  years. 
Deep  snows  encompassed  us  from  without,  and  while  we 
were  sheltered  from  the  storms  by  a  comfortable  log  cabin, 
and  were  supplied  with  a  fair  amount  of  provisions  such  as 
they  were,  a  gloom  settled  over  all.  Cattle  and  horses  were 
without  forage  and  none  could  be  had.  Reduced  to  skin 
and  bone  by  the  long  and  toilsome  journey  across  the  plains, 
they  were  illy  prepared  to  stand  the  rigors  of  such  a  winter. 
In  this  extremity  recourse  was  had  to  the  forest.  The 
Oregon  woods,  as  all  are  aware,  are  covered  by  long 
streamers  of  yellow  moss,  and  in  the  cutting  of  firewood  it 
was  discovered  this  moss  was  devoured  with  a  relish  by 
cattle  and  horses. 

Then  began  the  struggle  to  save  our  stock.  From  early 
morning  to  night  the  ring  of  the  ax  was  unceasing.  The 
cattle,  especially,  soon  learned  the  meaning  of  the  cracking 
of  a  tree  and  bolted  for  the  spot.  To  prevent  them  being 
killed  by  the  falling  trees,  the  smaller  children  were  pressed 
into  service  to  herd  them  away  until  the  tree  was  on  the 
ground.  The  stock  soon  began  to  thrive  and  cows  gave  an 
increased  amount  of  milk  which  was  hailed  with  delight  by 
the  small  children  and  afforded  a  welcome  addition  to  their 
bill  of  fare — boiled  wheat,  potatoes,  meat,  and  turnips. 

Thus  wore  away  the  terrible  winter  of  1852-53.  I  say 
terrible,  and  the  word  but  poorly  expresses  our  situation  dur- 
ing that  memorable  winter.  To  fully  understand  our  situa- 


12          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

lion  one  has  but  to  imagine  oneself  in  a  strange  land,  far 
from  human  aid,  save  from  those  environed  as  ourselves. 
We  were  three  thousand  miles  from  "home,"  surrounded 
by  a  primeval  wilderness,  in  which  ever  lurked  the  treacher- 
ous savage.  Happily  for  us  and  for  all,  no  annoyance  or 
real  danger  threatened  us  from  that  quarter.  A  few  years 
before,  a  salutary  lesson  had  been  taught  the  savages.  The 
deadly  rifles  of  the  pioneers  had  instilled  into  their  bosoms 
a  wholesome  fear.  Information  had  reached  the  settlers 
that  the  Indians  contemplated  a  massacre — that  they  were 
going  to  break  out.  The  information  reached  them  through 
the  medium  of  a  friendly  Indian.  The  result  was  that  the 
settlers  "broke  out"  first.  A  company  was  formed,  consist- 
ing of  about  all  of  the  able-bodied  men  within  reach.  The 
savages  were  encountered  on  the  Molalley  and  after  a  sharp 
fight  were  dispersed  or  killed.  Several  were  left  dead  on 
the  ground.  The  whites  had  one  man  wounded.  Thus  the 
war  power  of  the  Molalleys  was  destroyed  forever. 

In  this  connection  I  wish  to  make  a  digression,  which  I 
trust  my  readers  will  pardon.  It  has  often  been  urged  that 
the  white  man  has  shown  little  gratitude  and  no  pity  for  the 
aborigines  of  this  country.  This  I  wish  to  refute.  The 
Indian  that  brought  the  word  of  warning  to  the  white  settlers 
was  ever  after  the  object  of  tender  solicitude  on  the  part  of 
those  whom  he  had  befriended.  I  have  seen  that  Indian, 
then  old  and  possibly  worse  off  for  his  association  with 
civilization,  sitting  down  and  bossing  a  gang  of  Chinamen 
cutting  and  splitting  wood  for  Dan'l  Waldo.  The  Indian, 
"Quinaby,"  always  contracted  the  sawing  of  the  wood  at 
$2.00  per  cord  and  hired  the  Chinamen  to  do  the  work  for 
50  cents  per  cord.  He  had  a  monopoly  on  the  wood-sawing 
business  for  Mr.  Waldo,  Wesley  Shannon,  and  other  old 
pioneers.  It  mattered  not  to  "Quinaby"  that  prices  went 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  13 

down,  his  contract  price  remained  the  same,  and  the  old 
pioneers  heartily  enjoyed  the  joke,  and  delighted  in  telling 
it  on  themselves. 

But  enough  of  this.  Spring  came  at  last  and  a  new 
world  burst  upon  the  vision  of  the  heretofore  almost  be- 
leaguered pioneers.  We  had  wintered  on  a  "claim"  belong- 
ing to  a  young  man  named  John  McKinney,  two  miles  from 
the  present  town  of  Jefferson.  He  had  offered  his  cabin  as 
a  shelter  with  true  Western  hospitality,  including  the  free 
use  of  land  to  plant  a  crop.  Accordingly  about  twenty 
acres  were  plowed  and  sown  to  wheat.  This  work  was  per- 
formed by  my  elder  brothers.  Meantime  my  father  had 
started  out  to  look  for  a  claim.  Nine  miles  north  of  Eugene 
City  he  purchased  a  "claim"  of  320  acres,  paying  therefor 
an  Indian  pony  and  $40  in  cash.  To  this  place  we  moved 
early  in  May,  and  there  began  the  task  of  building  up  a 
home  in  the  western  wilds.  A  small  cabin  of  unhewn  logs 
constituted  the  only  improvement  on  the  "claim,"  but  a  new 
house  of  hewn  logs  was  soon  erected  and  a  forty-acre  field 
inclosed  with  split  rails.  We  had  plenty  of  neighbors  who, 
like  ourselves,  were  improving  their  lands,  and  mutual  assist- 
ance was  the  rule. 

As  summer  approached  it  became  necessary  to  return  to 
our  wintering  place,  where  a  crop  had  been  sown,  and  har- 
vest the  same.  Accordingly,  my  father,  accompanied  by  my 
two  older  brothers,  the  late  Judge  J.  M.  Thompson  of  Lane 
County,  and  Senator  S.  G.  Thompson,  Jr.,  of  Wasco,  then 
boys  of  1 2  and  1 4  years,  went  back  and  cared  for  the  grain. 
The  wheat  was  cut  with  a  cradle,  bound  into  bundles  and 
stacked.  A  piece  of  ground  was  then  cleared,  the  grain 
laid  down  on  the  "tramping  floor"  and  oxen  driven  around 
until  the  grain  was  all  tramped  out.  After  the  grain  was 


14          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

all  "threshed  out,"  it  was  carried  on  top  of  a  platform 
built  of  rails  and  poured  out  on  a  wagon  sheet,  trusting  to 
the  wind  to  separate  the  wheat  kernels  from  the  straw  and 
chaff.  By  this  primitive  method  the  crop  was  harvested, 
threshed,  cleaned,  and  then  sacked.  It  was  then  hauled  by 
ox  teams  to  Albany  where  a  small  burr  mill  had  been  erected 
by  a  man  named  Monteith,  if  my  memory  serves  me  cor- 
rectly, and  then  ground  to  flour. 

And  then,  joy  of  joys !  We  had  wheat  bread.  No  more 
boiled  wheat,  nor  flour  ground  in  a  coffee  mill, — but  genuine 
wheat  bread.  You,  reader,  who  probably  never  ate  a  meal 
in  your  life  without  bread,  have  little  conception  of  the  deli- 
ciousness  of  a  biscuit  after  the  lapse  of  a  year.  As  Captain 
Applegate  once  said  to  the  writer,  referring  to  the  first  wheat 
bread  he  ever  remembered  eating:  "No  delicacy, — no  morsel 
of  food  ever  eaten  in  after  life  tasted  half  so  delicious  as  that 
bread."  It  must  be  remembered  that  Captain  Applegate 
crossed  the  plains  in  1  843  and  was  therefore  an  "old  settler" 
when  we  arrived.  His  trials  were  prolonged  only  a  matter 
of  eight  years;  but  looking  back,  what  an  eternity  was  em- 
compassed  in  those  eight  years. 

One  of  the  leading  characteristics  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  is 
that  on  coming  to  the  western  hemisphere  he  brought  with 
him  his  wife  and  children, — his  school  books,  and  his  Bible. 
As  soon,  therefore,  as  a  spot  for  a  home  had  been  selected 
and  a  rude  shelter  of  logs  erected  for  loved  ones,  the  neigh- 
bors began  discussing  the  question  of  school.  It  was  finally 
arranged  that  we  must  have  a  school,  and  the  cabin  of  a 
bachelor  settler  was  tendered  and  accepted,  and  my  father 
chosen  as  teacher.  Logs  were  split  open  and  placed  on  legs, 
with  the  flat  sides  turned  up  to  serve  as  seats.  The  floor, — 
well,  Mother  Earth  provided  that.  It  was  sprinkled  and 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          15 

swept  out  with  "split  brooms"  twice  daily.  To  prevent 
the  pupils  getting  lost  in  the  tall  grass  of  the  prairies,  furrows 
were  plowed  from  the  settlers'  cabins  to  the  school  house. 
This  also  served  as  a  protection  to  the  barefoot  girls  and  boys 
going  to  and  from  school.  My  father  belonged  to  the  old 
school  and  did  not  believe  in  "sparing  the  rod,"  and  as  a 
result,  it  became  indelibly  impressed  upon  my  juvenile  mind 
that  he  used  the  rod  upon  me  to  better  preserve  order  among 
the  other  pupils. 

In  those  days  girls  dressed  in  "linsey  woolsey,"  while  the 
boys  of  all  ages  wore  buckskin  pantaloons  and  hickory 
shirts.  Now,  buckskin  is  well  calculated  to  stand  the  wear 
and  tear  of  even  a  robust  boy.  Yet  there  were  awkward 
drawbacks.  The  legs  of  the  pantaloons  absorbed  too  much 
moisture  from  the  dew-bedecked  grass  and  they  would 
stretch  out  to  almost  any  length.  The  boy,  therefore,  must 
roll  them  up  at  the  bottom.  Arrived  at  school,  however, 
the  drying  process  set  in,  and  he,  perforce,  must  unroll  the 
legs.  As  the  boy  occupied  a  sitting  position,  the  legs  of 
his  buckskins  set  to  the  crook  of  his  knees.  Imagine,  if 
you  will,  a  row  of  boys  ranging  from  12  to  17  years, 
standing  in  a  class  reciting  their  lessons,  straight  as  hickories, 
yet  the  pantaloons  of  every  mother's  son  of  them  still  sitting 
down.  But  it  mattered  little  to  the  boy  of  that  day,  as  he 
had  only  to  wet  them  again,  stretch  them  out  straight  and 
wear  them  to  "meetin*  in  the  grove"  Sunday. 

There  was  no  aristocracy — no  "four  hundred" — in  those 
primitive  days.  All  dressed  alike,  ate  the  same  kind  of  food, 
and  every  man,  woman,  and  child  was  as  good  as  every 
other  man,  woman,  and  child,  provided  they  were  honest, 
kind  neighbors,  ready  and  willing  to  render  assistance  in 
sickness  or  in  need.  In  fine,  these  pioneers  constituted  a 


16          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

pure  democracy,  where  law  was  the  simple  rule  of  honesty, 
friendship,  mutual  help,  and  good  will,  where  "duty  was 
love  and  love  was  law." 

One  must  not  imagine  that  life  was  wholly  devoid  of 
pleasures  in  those  days.  The  young  of  both  sexes  always 
rode  horseback,  whether  to  church  in  the  grove,  or  going  the 
round  of  parties,  candy  pullings,  or  kissing  bees.  O,  how  in 
my  young  days  I  did  dote  on  the  candy  pulling  and  the 
kissing  bee.  To  my  young  and  unsophisticated  mind  they 
were  divine  institutions;  and,  even  now,  after  the  lapse  of 
so  many  years  when  the  "heydey  in  the  blood  is  tame," 
how  I  look  back  upon  those  few  days  with  unalloyed 
pleasure. 

Among  the  early  pioneers,  I  mean  the  great  masses,  there 
was  a  stern  code  of  morals  little  understood  at  the  present 
time.  Exceptions  there  were,  to  be  sure,  but  I  refer  to  the 
people  as  a  whole.  One  instance  will  serve  as  an  illustra- 
tion. The  beaux  and  belles,  in  linsey-woolsey  and  buck- 
skins, were  assembled  from  the  country  around  and  about. 
My  father  had  sent  me  along  with  brothers  and  sisters  to 
bring  back  the  saddle  horses,  as  there  was  not  stable  room 
for  all.  Other  neighbor  boys  were  there  on  a  like  errand. 
We  were  sitting  on  our  horses  and  ready  to  start,  when 
several  of  the  young  ladies,  among  them  my  sisters,  came 
out  of  the  house  and  told  us  to  wait.  Presently,  practically 
all  of  the  girls  came  out  with  hats  and  riding  habits  and  a 
consultation  was  held  in  the  front  yard.  While  they  all 
stood  there  a  man  and  a  woman  came  out,  mounted  their 
horses  and  rode  away.  We  were  then  told  to  go  on  home 
with  the  horses.  I  afterwards  learned  that  the  whole  trouble 
originated  in  the  fact  that  the  lady  who  had  ridden  away 
was  a  divorced  woman.  To  present-day  readers,  this  may 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  17 

appear  absurd,  prudish,  but  not  so  to  the  men  and  women 
of  that  day.  This  is  not  repeated  here  to  "point  a  moral," 
but  merely  to  "adorn  a  tale"  of  pioneer  days. 

For  excitement,  the  frequent  Indian  uprisings,  and  more 
frequent  Indian  scares,  afforded  abundant  material  upon 
which  the  young  enterprising  and  adventurous  spirits  of  the 
day  could  work  off  their  surplus  energies.  Hunting,  too, 
afforded  a  pleasurable  and  profitable  pastime  to  the  young 
when  not  engaged  in  the  work  of  building  houses,  barns, 
and  fences,  and  the  boy  of  ten  who  could  not  pick  off  the 
head  of  a  grouse  or  pheasant  at  thirty  or  forty  yards  was 
only  fit  to  be  "tied  to  mama's  apron  string."  In  times  of 
danger  age  was  no  bar,  the  boy  of  1 4  marched  side  by  side 
with  the  gray  haired  volunteer,  or  remained  at  home  to  pro- 
tect "mother  and  the  children."  I  well  remember  once  when 
the  neighborhood  was  thrown  into  a  turmoil  of  excitement. 
A  large  grizzly  bear  had  left  his  mountain  lair  and  was 
playing  havoc  with  the  cattle  and  other  stock  in  the  valley. 
News  reached  the  school  house  and  my  father  at  once  dis- 
missed school,  hurrying  to  join  those  in  pursuit  of  the  robber. 
Arriving  at  home  he  mounted  his  horse,  and  taking  his  rifle 
and  revolver  galloped  away  to  join  the  neighbors.  Now,  I 
wanted  to  go  and  see  the  fight,  but  was  curtly  told  to  stay  at 
home.  No  sooner,  however,  than  my  father  had  got  fairly 
started  than  I  mounted  a  pony  and  followed.  I  was  warned 
that  punishment  would  follow.  But  what  cared  I  for  pun- 
ishment at  such  a  time?  Go  I  would,  though  promised  a 
dozen  whippings. 

The  bear  had  taken  shelter  on  a  small  mountain  stream 
that  coursed  through  the  valley,  and  was  bordered  on  either 
side  by  a  narrow  strip  of  ash,  thorn,  and  rose  bushes,  while 
beyond  this  was  the  level  prairie.  In  spite  of  scores  of  men 
and  dogs  the  huge  beast  made  progress  towards  the  moun- 


18  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

tains.  Baying  dogs  and  the  quick  snarl  of  the  rifles  marked 
the  rapid  progress  of  the  beast  which  at  length  reached  a 
wooded  ravine  near  the  home  of  "Squire"  Miller,  that  led 
up  the  mountain,  where  a  mile  above  an  old  Indian  was 
camped.  The  bear  evidently  came  upon  him  unawares,  but 
whether  he  was  asleep  or  was  getting  water  from  the  small 
stream,  was  never  known,  for,  with  one  sweep  of  his  mighty 
paw,  the  grizzly  completely  disemboweled  the  Indian,  strew- 
ing his  entrails  fifteen  feet  on  the  ground.  Half  a  mile 
above  the  body  of  the  Indian  the  fatal  shot,  among  many, 
was  delivered  and  the  chase  was  over. 

As  the  neighbors  gathered  triumphantly  around  the  dead 
body  of  the  monarch  of  the  Oregon  forest  I  saw  for  the  first 
time  sitting  on  a  horse,  a  boy  destined  to  make  a  name  in  the 
world  of  letters,  C.  H.  or  "Joaquin"  Miller.  I  remember 
him  as  a  slender,  light  haired  boy,  several  years  my  senior. 
During  subsequent  years  it  was  given  me  to  see  much  of  this 
boy,  at  school,  in  the  mines  and  later  as  an  apprentice  in  the 
Eugene  City  Herald,  a  newspaper  of  which  he  was  the 
editor. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  INDIAN  OUTBREAK  OF   1855. 

The  years  of  1853-4  were  years  of  comparative  peace, 
free  from  actual  Indian  wars,  and  afforded  the  pioneers  an 
opportunity  of  improving  their  farms,  building  up  more  com- 
fortable homes  and  surrounding  their  families  with  some  com- 
forts and  conveniences  of  civilization.  Yet  even  these  years 
were  not  free  from  alarms  and  stampedes.  Time  and  again 
swift  riders  spread  the  news  that  the  redskins  had  dug  up 
the  tomahawk  and  had  gone  on  the  war  path.  These  scares 
arose  from  isolated  murders  by  the  Indians,  whose  cupidity 
could  not  withstand  the  temptations  of  the  white  man's  prop- 
erty. It  was  not,  therefore,  until  midsummer  of  1855  that 
hostilities  began  in  earnest.  A  federation  had  been  formed 
among  all  the  tribes  of  Northern  California,  Southern  and 
Eastern  Oregon  and  Washington.  The  great  leaders  of  this 
insurrection  were  Tyee  John  and  his  brother  "Limpy,"  Rogue 
River  Indians,  and  John  was  one  of  the  greatest,  bravest  and 
most  resourceful  warriors  this  continent  has  produced.  An- 
other was  Pe-mox-mox,  who  ruled  over  the  Cayouses  and 
the  Columbias,  and  was  killed  early  in  the  war  while  attempt- 
ing to  lead  the  white  troops  into  ambush. 

The  outbreak  was  sudden  and  fierce,  lighting  up  the  fron- 
tier with  the  burning  cabins  of  the  settlers.  Travelers  were 
waylaid,  prospectors  murdered  and  in  many  instances  entire 
families  wiped  out,  their  homes  becoming  their  funeral  pyres. 
Neither  age  nor  sex  was  spared.  Little  children  were  seized 
by  the  heels  and  their  brains  dashed  out  against  the  corner 
of  the  cabin.  One  entire  family  perished  amid  the  flames 


20  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

of  their  burning  home.  Women  were  butchered  under  cir- 
cumstances of  peculiar  and  diabolical  atrocity.  A  man 
named  Harris,  attacked  by  Indians  on  the  Rogue  River,  de- 
fended himself  until  killed.  His  wife  then  took  up  the 
defense  of  her  home  and  little  daughter,  and  with  a  heroism 
that  has  rendered  her  name  immortal  in  the  annals  of  Oregon, 
held  the  savages  at  bay  until  relief  came  twenty-four  hours 
later. 

Mock  sentimentalists  and  fake  humanitarians  have  walled 
their  eyes  to  heaven  in  holy  horror  at  the  "barbarities"  prac- 
ticed by  white  men  upon  the  "poor  persecuted  red  man." 
Yet  had  they  witnessed  scenes  like  those  I  have  so  faintly 
portrayed,  they  too,  would  have  preached  a  war  of  exter- 
mination. You  and  I,  reader,  have  an  exceedingly  thin 
veneering  of  civilization,  and  in  the  presence  of  such  scenes 
of  diabolical  atrocity  would  slip  it  off  as  a  snake  sheds  his 
skin.  I  have  seen  men  as  kind  and  gentle, — as  humane — 
as  yourself  transformed  into  almost  savages  in  the  presence 
of  such  scenes. 

For  a  year  previous  to  the  great  outbreak,  the  Indians 
would  leave  their  reservations  in  squads,  and  after  murdering 
and  pillaging  the  settlements,  would  return  with  their  plunder 
to  the  protection  of  the  agencies.  Demands  made  for  their 
surrender  by  the  settlers  were  answered  by  a  counter  demand 
for  their  authority,  which  required  delay  and  generally  ended 
with  the  escape  of  the  murderers.  The  result  was  that  squads 
of  Indians  off  the  reservations  were  attacked  and  sometimes 
exterminated.  Thus  affairs  grew  from  bad  to  worse  until  the 
final  great  outbreak  during  the  summer  of  1855. 

Geo.  L.  Curry,  Governor  of  the  Territory  of  Oregon,  at 
once  issued  a  call  to  arms  and  volunteers  from  every  part  of 
the  territory  instantly  responded.  A  company  of  U.  S.  dra- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  21 

goons  under  command  of  Capt  A.  J.  Smith,  who  subse- 
quently achieved  fame  in  the  war  of  the  States,  was  stationed 
in  Southern  Oregon,  and  rendered  all  possible  aid,  but  the 
slow  tactics  of  the  regulars  was  illy  calculated  to  cope  with 
the  savages.  The  main  reliance,  therefore,  must  be  placed  in 
the  citizen  soldiery.  Every  county  in  the  Territory  answered 
the  call  to  arms,  forming  one  or  more  companies,  the  men, 
as  a  rule,  supplying  their  own  horses,  arms,  ammunition,  and 
at  the  beginning  of  the  outbreak,  their  own  blankets  and  pro- 
visions. There  was  no  question  about  pay.  The  men  simply 
elected  their  own  officers  and  without  delay  moved  to  the 
front. 

Linn  county  furnished  one  company  under  Capt.  Jonathan 
Keeny  and  went  south  to  join  Col.  Ross'  command  and  was 
joined  by  many  of  our  neighbors.  My  two  brothers  also 
went  with  this  command,  one  as  teamster,  the  other  shoulder- 
ing the  spare  rifle.  As  previously  remarked,  age  was  not  con- 
sidered, the  boy  of  1 4  marching  side  by  side  with  the  gray 
haired  man,  armed  with  the  rifles  they  brought  from  the 
States.  The  ammunition  consisted  of  powder,  caps  and 
moulded  bullets,  nor  was  the  "patchen"  for  the  bullet 
omitted.  The  powder  was  carried  in  a  powder  horn,  the 
caps  in  a  tin  box,  the  bullets  in  a  shot  pouch  and  patchen  for 
the  bullets  was  cut  out  the  proper  size  and  strung  on  a  stout 
leather  thong  attached  to  and  supporting  the  shot  pouch  and 
powder  horn. 

In  the  fall  after  the  departure  of  the  first  contingent,  and 
at  a  time  when  families  were  practically  defenseless,  news 
reached  us  by  a  tired  rider  that  700  Indians  had  crossed  the 
trail  over  the  Cascade  mountains  and  were  burning  the  homes 
and  butchering  the  settlers  on  the  Calapooya,  twenty  miles 
away.  The  news  reached  us  in  the  night,  and  one  can  easily 
imagine  the  confusion  and  consternation  that  everywhere  pre- 


22  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

vailed.  To  realize  our  situation  one  must  remember  that  most 
of  the  men  and  about  all  of  the  guns  had  gone  south.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  awful  suspense  and  dread  that  prevailed  in 
our  home  as  the  family  sat  in  a  group  through  the  long  weary 
hours  of  that  night,  anxiously  awaiting  the  return  of  the  day, 
yet  dreading  what  the  day  might  bring  forth.  Horses  were 
gathered  and  securely  tied  about  the  house,  and  such  arms  as 
we  possessed  made  ready  for  instant  use.  At  last  day  broke, 
and  searching  with  the  eye  the  almost  boundless  prairie,  no 
enemy  was  in  sight. 

As  the  sun  rose  above  the  rim  of  the  distant  mountains  my 
father  determined  to  disprove  or  verify  the  rumor.  Neighbors 
sought  to  dissuade  him,  but  mounting  a  swift  horse  he  started 
for  Brownsville  on  the  Calapooya.  Meantime  everything  was 
in  readiness  for  forting  up  should  it  become  necessary.  The 
day  wore  on,  still  no  news.  In  vain  we  gazed  from  the  house 
top  over  the  prairie  for  a  sight  of  a  horseman.  Doubt  and 
uncertainty  as  to  the  fate  of  my  father  and  our  own  fate  was 
almost  worse  than  death.  The  day  wore  on.  Would 
father  never  return — had  he  been  killed?  were  the  questions 
whispered  one  with  another.  My  mother  alone  was  confident, 
relying  on  father's  discretion  and  the  further  fact  that  he  was 
riding  the  swiftest  horse  in  the  Territory.  At  last  near  sunset 
we  descried  him  galloping  leisurely  toward  home.  When 
within  a  short  distance  he  settled  into  a  walk,  and  we  then 
knew  that  the  danger,  at  least  for  the  present,  was  not 
imminent.  The  only  emotion  manifested  by  my  mother  was 
a  stray  tear  that  coursed  down  her  pale  and  trouble-worn 
cheek.  My  father  reported  a  false  alarm,  originating  in  the 
over-wrought  imagination  of  settlers  on  the  exposed  margin 
of  the  valley. 

At  other  times  the  alarm  came  from  the  west  side  of  the 
river.  Fears  were  entertained  that  the  savages  from  the 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          23 

south  would  cross  over  the  Calapooya  mountains  and  attack 
the  settlements  in  Lane  county.  One  settler  had  a  large  bass 
drum,  and  the  beating  of  this,  which  could  be  heard  for 
miles,  was  the  signal  of  danger.  More  than  once  the  deep 
roll  of  the  drum  roused  the  country,  only  to  discover  that  it 
was  a  false  alarm.  But  these  constant  alarms  were  trying 
indeed,  especially  on  the  timid  and  nervous,  and  women 
became  almost  hysterical  on  the  most  trivial  occasions. 

Time  wore  on,  and  at  length  the  news  came  of  the  defeat 
of  Col.  Ross'  volunteers  and  Capt.  Smith's  dragoons.  Many 
were  killed  with  no  compensating  advantage  to  the  whites. 
Among  the  number  killed  was  one  of  our  neighbor  boys, 
John  Gillispie,  son  of  a  minister,  and  my  father  and  mother 
went  over  to  their  home  to  convey  the  sad  news  and  to  render 
such  poor  consolation  to  the  parents  as  was  possible.  Every 
family  in  the  land  had  one  or  more  of  its  members  with  the 
troops,  and  any  day  might  bring  tidings  of  death  or  even 
worse.  Hence  there  was  a  close  bond  of  sympathy  between 
all.  Happily,  the  death  of  young  Gillispie  was  to  be  the 
only  one  to  visit  our  neighborhood. 

The  stay-at-homes,  those  gallant  (?)  soldiers  who  fight 
their  battles  with  their  mouths,  were  loud  in  fault  finding  and 
severe  in  censure  of  those  in  command,  and  would  tell  how 
the  battle  should  have  been  fought  and  how  not.  This  was 
especially  true  of  the  one-horse  politicians,  too  cowardly  to 
go  to  the  front,  and  of  disgruntled  politicians.  To  the  shame 
of  our  common  humanity  be  it  said,  there  were  not  wanting 
those  who  sought  to  coin  the  very  blood  of  the  brave  men  at 
the  front,  and  these  ghouls  and  vampires  talked  loudest  when 
the  war  was  at  length  brought  to  a  close,  to  be  quoted  in 
after  years  as  history  by  Bancroft  and  others. 

Chief  John  adopted  a  Fabian  policy  from  the  first.     He 


24          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

would  disappear  with  his  warriors,  hiding  away  in  the  deep 
recesses  of  the  mountains  only  to  appear  again  when  and 
where  least  expected,  but  towards  the  close  of  1856  his 
people  grew  tired  of  war.  They  said  the  more  men  they 
killed  the  more  came  and  took  their  places,  and  in  spite  of 
John  and  Limpy  they  determined  to  sue  for  peace.  The 
terms  were  finally  agreed  upon,  and  John  and  Limpy,  de- 
serted but  not  conquered,  at  last  surrendered. 

After  the  surrender,  John  and  son,  a  lad  of  16,  were 
placed  on  board  a  steamer  and  started  to  a  reservation  up 
the  coast.  When  off  the  mouth  of  Rogue  river  and  behold- 
ing the  hunting  grounds  of  his  people  and  the  familiar  scenes 
of  his  youth,  he  made  a  desperate  attempt  to  capture  the  ship. 
It  was  a  "Call  of  the  Wild,"  and  snatching  a  sabre  from 
his  guard  he  succeeded  in  driving  them  below  and  for  a  time 
had  possession  of  the  ship's  deck.  But  firearms  were  brought 
into  play,  one  leg  of  the  boy  was  shot  off  and  John,  badly 
wounded,  was  placed  in  irons.  He  told  his  captors  that  it 
was  his  purpose  to  capture  the  ship,  run  her  ashore  and 
escape  into  the  mountains.  On  a  reservation,  John  spent  the 
remainder  of  his  days, — a  captive  yet  unconquered  save  by 
death.  As  previously  stated,  in  point  of  courage,  cunning, 
savage  ferocity  and  soldierly  ability  and  generalship,  Tyee 
John  has  had  few  equals  and  no  superiors  on  the  North 
American  continent. 

It  was  not  my  purpose  to  attempt  a  detailed  history  of  the 
Rogue  River  war  as  that  task  were  better  left  to  the  historian 
with  leisure  to  delve  into  the  musty  records  of  the  past,  but  I 
sincerely  hope  that  when  the  true  story  of  that  bloody  time 
is  written  the  kernel  of  truth  will  be  sifted  from  the  mass  of 
chaff  by  which  it  has  thus  far  been  obscured.  My  purpose 
is  merely  to  give  the  facts  in  a  general  way  as  I  received 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          25 

them,  and  the  conditions  surrounding  the  pioneers  of  which  I 
was  one.  The  true  story  of  the  Rogue  River  war  is  but  a 
duplicate  of  many  other  Indian  wars.  It  is  a  story  of  in- 
competent, bigoted,  self-opinionated,  Indian  agents,  wedded 
to  form  and  red  tape,  without  any  of  common  sense  or  "horse 
sense,"  required  in  dealing  with  conditions  such  as  existed 
prior  to  the  breaking  out  of  the  war. 

The  early  immigrants  to  the  Oregon,  and  indeed,  to  the 
Pacific  coast,  merely  sought  to  better  their  conditions.  They 
came  with  their  flocks  and  herds,  their  wives  and  their 
children,  their  school  books  and  their  Bibles,  seeking  not  to 
dispossess  or  rob  the  occupants  of  the  land.  They  found  a 
vast  empire,  of  which  the  natives  were  utilizing  but  a  small 
portion.  There  was  room  for  all  and  to  spare.  The  natives 
at  first  received  the  white  strangers  with  kindness  and  hospi- 
tality. There  were  exceptions  even  to  this  rule,  but  it  was 
the  exception.  The  white  man's  property  soon  excited  the 
cupidity  of  the  Indian,  and  knowing  no  law  but  the  law  of 
might,  he  sought  to  possess  himself  of  the  same.  And  right 
here  I  want  to  say,  that  from  an  experience  covering  more 
than  half  a  century,  the  only  thing  an  Indian  respects  on 
«arth,  is  Power.  Courage  he  respects  for  the  simple  reason 
that  courage  is  power.  And  I  might  further  add,  that  this 
rule  applies  with  equal  force  to  the  white  as  well  as  to  the 
copper-colored  savage. 

Treaties  had  been  made  with  the  Rogue  Rivers  and  the 
Umpquas  but  in  a  true  sense  were  not  treaties,  but,  on  the 
part  of  the  Government,  merely  bribes  to  be  good.  They 
moved  to  reservations,  enjoyed  the  blankets  and  other  good 
things  provided  by  the  Government  so  long  as  it  suited  them. 
Then  they  would  steal  out  of  the  reservations,  rob,  murder 
and  plunder  the  settlers,  and  return  to  the  protection  of  the 


26  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

agents.  Tracked  to  the  reservations,  the  agents  refused  to 
surrender  them.  The  red  tape  here  interposed  and  red 
handed  murderers  were  saved,  that  more  murders  might  be 
committed.  Instead  of  the  Government  and  the  agents  being 
a  protection  to  the  settlers,  they  were  the  protectors  of  the 
Indians,  and  as  sometimes  happened,  troops  were  called  upon 
to  lend  a  helping  hand.  Such  conditions  could  not  last — 
such  outrages  could  not  be  endured.  Hence  when  bands 
were  caught  off  the  reservations  they  were  destroyed  like 
dangerous,  noxious  beasts. 

Apologists  of  murder  and  rapine  have  held  up  their  hands 
in  holy  horror  at  such  acts  on  the  part  of  the  settlers.  The 
"poor,  persecuted  people,"  according  to  them,  were  foully 
wronged,  massacred  and  exterminated.  They  saw  but  one 
side,  and  that  was  the  side  of  the  savages.  With  the  close 
of  the  Rogue  River  war,  the  Indian  question  west  of  the 
Cascade  mountains  was  settled  forever.  John  and  Limpy 
had  made  a  heroic  struggle  for  the  hunting  grounds  of  their 
fathers  and  incidentally  for  the  goods  and  chattels,  and  the 
scalps  of  the  white  invaders.  But,  moralize  as  you  may,  the 
fiat  of  God  had  gone  forth;  the  red  man  and  the  white  man 
could  not  live  peaceably  together;  one  or  the  other  must  go. 
And  in  obedience  to  the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest,  it 
was  the  red  man  that  must  disappear.  It  was,  in  my 
opinion,  merely  a  continuation  of  the  struggle  for  existence — 
a  struggle  as  old  as  man,  which  began  when  "first  the  morn- 
ing stars  sang  together,"  and  will  continue  till  the  end  of 
time.  That  law  applies  to  all  creatures.  Take  for  instance, 
the  lower  order  of  animals.  In  the  tropics  the  deer  is  small, 
not  much  larger  than  a  coyote.  The  weakling  as  well  as  the 
strong  and  vigorous  can  survive.  Further  north,  where  con- 
ditions are  harder,  the  deer  is  larger.  Continuing  on  north, 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          27 

where  only  the  strong  and  vigorous  can  survive  the  rigors  of 
winter,  we  find  the  caribou. 

It  may  be  pointed  out  that  the  largest  animals  of  earth  are 
found  in  the  tropics,  where  the  struggle  for  existence  is  least 
severe.  Yet  in  the  frozen  mud  of  Siberia  and  Alaska  we 
find  the  remains  of  animals — the  elephant  and  the  mastodon 
— compared  to  which  old  Jumbo  was  but  a  baby.  And 
imbedded  in  the  asphalt  of  Southern  California  is  found  the 
remains  of  the  sabre  toothed  tiger,  by  the  side  of  which  the 
royal  Bengal  is  but  a  tabby  cat.  But  I  am  getting  into  deep 
water,  and  will  leave  this  question  for  the  naturalist,  the 
geologist  and  the  theorist.  And  the  passing  of  the  "noble 
red  man"  to  the  gentleman  in  silk  gown  and  slippers — and  to 
the  sentimental  novelist. 

Oregon  settlers  now  had  leisure  time  for  building  up  their 
homes,  so  better  houses  were  erected,  fields  were  fenced  and 
plowed,  school  houses  and  churches  built,  scythes  and  axes 
were  wielded  in  place  of  the  rifle  that  now  rested  in  idleness 
above  the  cabin  door.  A  new  era  had  dawned  on  the 
Oregon,  and  gentle  peace  like  a  brooding  spirit  hovered 
above  the  erstwhile  desolate  land. 

During  the  succeeding  years,  up  to  1861,  there  was  little 
to  distract  the  attention  of  the  pioneers.  My  time  was 
occupied  during  that  period  in  assisting  on  the  farm  during 
summer  and  attending  the  district  school  during  the  winter. 
The  loop  holes  in  the  wall  of  the  old  school  house  for  the 
rifles  had  been  boarded  up,  and  the  larger  boys  no  longer 
"toted"  their  guns,  and  stacked  them  in  the  corner. 

On  the  east  side  of  the  Cascade  mountains,  however,  the 
gentle  savage  was  lord  of  all  the  lands  over  which  he  roamed. 
Here  he  was  yet  master,  and  therby  hangs  a  tale.  In  1 845 
an  immigrant  train  attempted  to  enter  the  Oregon  by  way  of 


28          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

the  "Meeks  cut  off."  With  them  were  the  Durbins,  Sim- 
mons, Tetherows,  Herrins  and  many  others  I  cannot  now 
recall.  The  history  of  that  journey  is  one  of  hardship,  star- 
vation, and  death.  After  enduring  sufferings  such  as  sicken 
one  in  the  bare  recital  the  remnant  staggered  into  the  settle- 
ments, more  dead  than  alive.  They  crossed  the  Cascade 
mountains,  coming  down  the  Middle  Fork  of  the  Willamette 
river,  and  somewhere  west  of  Harney  Valley  they  stopped 
on  a  small  stream.  An  old  Indian  trail  crossed  at  that  point, 
and  the  oxen  in  sliding  down  the  bank  to  water  uncovered  a 
bright  piece  of  metal.  It  was  picked  up  and  taken  to  camp, 
where  a  man  who  had  been  in  the  mines  in  Georgia  pro- 
nounced it  gold.  He  flattened  it  out  with  a  wagon  hammer, 
and  was  quite  positive  it  was  the  precious  metal.  But  men, 
women  and  children  subsisting  on  grasshoppers  and  crickets 
and  fighting  Indians  most  of  the  day,  had  something  else  to- 
think  about. 

The  incident,  therefore,  was  soon  forgotten  amid  the  dire 
stress  of  their  surroundings.  But  when  gold  was  discovered 
at  Suiter's  Fort  in  California,  Sol  Tetherow  called  to  mind 
the  finding  of  the  piece  of  metal  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
not  far  from  Harney  Valley.  He  told  about  it — told  and 
retold  the  story,  and  as  the  stories  from  California  grew,  so> 
grew  the  story  of  the  old  man,  until  finally  he  declared  he 
could  have  "picked  up  a  blue  bucket  full  in  the  bed  of  the 
creek."  Hence  originated  the  name,  the  "Blue  Bucket 
Diggins." 

During  the  years  of  1857-58-59-60  and  61,  companies 
were  formed  in  the  valley  counties  to  search  for  the  "Blue 
Bucket  Diggins."  The  companies  were  loosely  formed, 
with  little  or  no  discipline,  and  were,  therefore,  predestined 
to  end  in  disaster.  After  crossing  the  mountains  and  seeing 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          29 

no  sign  of  Indians,  the  officers  had  no  power  and  less  in- 
clination to  enforce  discipline.  There  being  no  signs  of  In- 
dians, it  was  useless  to  maintain  guards;  they  could  whip 
all  the  Indians  east  of  the  mountains,  and  why  attempt  to 
put  on  "military  airs?"  They  were  destined  to  a  rude 
awakening.  Some  morning  about  daylight,  twenty  or  thirty 
red  blanketed  men,  with  hideous  yells  would  charge  the  horse 
herds,  while  a  hundred  or  more  with  equally  hideous  yells 
would  attack  the  sleeping  men.  Then  would  result  a  stamp- 
ede, those  who  had  talked  loudest  and  talked  most  about 
cowards,  being  first  to  lose  their  heads.  The  few  cool  heads 
would  make  a  stand,  while  the  savages  after  getting  away 
with  the  horses,  would  beat  a  retreat,  leaving  the  gold  hun- 
ters to  straggle  afoot  back  across  the  mountains  to  the  settle- 
ments. 

These  expeditions  served  to  work  off  the  surplus  energy 
of  the  adventurous  and  restless,  until  the  news  arrived  in  the 
spring  of  1861  of  the  discovery  of  gold  in  the  Nez  Perce 
mountains.  The  reports,  as  in  most  similar  cases,  were 
greatly  exaggerated,  but  it  served  to  create  a  genuine  stamp- 
ede, and  while  yet  a  boy  of  1 4,  I  was  drawn  into  that  tor- 
rent rushing  to  the  new  El  Dorado.  In  justice  to  the  good 
sound  sense  and  mature  judgment  of  my  parents,  I  am  com- 
pelled to  say  that  it  was  not  with  their  consent  that  I  was 
drawn  into  this  wild  whirlpool,  but,  I  argued,  was  I  not  a 
man?  Could  I  not  ride  and  shoot  with  the  best  of  them? 
And,  perforce,  why  should  I  not  go  to  the  mines  and  make 
my  fortune? 

I  went.  But  by  way  of  parenthesis,  will  say  to  my  young 
readers — Don't. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  WHICH  VARIOUS  EXPERIENCES  ARE  DISCUSSED. 

I  have  now  arrived  at  a  point  where  I  shall  speak  more 
of  myself,  and  the  insignificant  part  I  was  to  play  in  mould- 
ing history  and  shaping  the  destinies  of  Oregon  and  the 
Northwest. 

Joining  a  company  of  neighbors  we  crossed  the  Cascade 
Mountains  by  way  of  the  Barlow  route.  All  had  saddle 
horses  with  one  pack  horse,  or  mule,  to  two  men.  At  Grass 
Valley,  between  the  Deschutes  and  John  Day  River  we  fell 
in  with  a  large  company  returning  from  a  search  for  the 
"Blue  Bucket  Diggins."  They  had  been  successful  (in 
saving  their  horses)  and  hearing  of  the  Oro  Fino  strike  were 
bound,  like  ourselves,  for  the  new  El  Dorado. 

At  the  crossing  of  the  John  Day  River  we  found  a  ferry 
boat  kept  and  owned  by  a  couple  of  thrifty  traders,  who 
had  set  themselves  down  to  make  their  fortunes  quickly  and 
without  the  aid  of  the  pick  and  shovel.  But  their  covetous- 
ness  was  their  ruin.  The  sum  of  $6  was  demanded  for  a 
horseman  and  $4  for  a  pack  horse.  Our  party  argued  with 
them,  but  to  no  purpose.  They  would  take  nothing  less. 
After  parleying  for  some  time  the  traders  were  asked  the 
price  for  ferrying  over  a  foot-man  and  his  luggage.  Wall 
Cushman,  one  of  the  traders,  replied,  "one  dollar."  Then 
saddles  and  packs  began  to  come  off  the  backs  of  horses 
and  mules.  Cushman  threatened,  swore  and  plead,  but  all 
to  no  purpose.  He  should  receive  one  dollar  for  ferrying 
footmen  and  no  more. 

Saddles,  packs,  provisions,  and  blankets  were  piled  up 
at  the  ferry  landing  and  the  most  stupendous  amount  of 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          31 

luggage  ever  carried  by  a  hobo  was  then,  one  after  another, 
piled  on  the  backs  of  footmen.  The  footman  would  stand 
within  a  step  of  the  boat  and,  after  his  luggage  was  piled  on 
his  back,  would  make  a  step  on  to  the  boat,  and  drop  his 
load  Often  two  and  three  men  would  steady  him  until  the 
step  was  made.  All  was  fun  and  laughter  except  to  Cush- 
man  and  his  partner.  While  this  was  going  on,  others  had 
crowded  the  horses  to  the  river  bank  and  were  endeavoring 
to  make  them  swim  the  river.  But  try  as  they  would,  the 
horses  upon  striking  the  swift  current  of  the  river  would  swing 
around  and  come  out  on  the  same  side.  It  was  now  Cush- 
man's  time  to  laugh.  In  this  extremity  a  reward  of  $20 
was  offered  any  one  who  would  swim  his  horse  ahead  of  the 
band  and  guide  them  over.  I  quickly  volunteered.  I  wanted 
the  twenty,  and  I  wanted  to  save  my  dollar.  Some  of  the 
older  men  objected.  But  I  had  swum  my  horse  across  the 
Williamette  River  and  the  insignficant  John  Day,  not  a 
fourth  as  wide,  had  no  terrors  for  me.  Mounting  my  horse, 
I  rode  down  into  the  river  until  almost  swimming.  Meantime 
I  had  divested  myself  of  all  clothing  save  that  provided  by 
mother  nature,  and  having  loaded  my  saddle  and  effects  on 
the  back  of  my  partner,  fastened  my  right  hand  in  my  horse's 
mane  and  gave  the  word.  Sliding  off  on  the  lower  side  I 
guided  my  horse  with  my  hand  and  he  took  the  current  of 
the  stream  like  a  steamboat.  The  other  horses  to  an  animal 
followed,  and  in  a  few  moments  were  all  safely  on  the  other 
shore.  The  crowd  cheered  heartily  and  even  Wall  Cush- 
man  could  not  restrain  his  feelings,  but  exclaimed,  "My  boy, 
you  are  a  brick." 

The  $20  was  not  only  given  me,  but  several  who  had  not 
contributed  to  the  first  "pot"  gave  a  half  dollar.  Alto- 
gether I  was  handsomely  paid  for  my  few  moment's  work, 
and  as  the  water  was  not  cold,  I  rather  enjoyed  the  swim. 


32  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

From  there  we  went  to  Walla  Walla,  following  the  old 
Nez  Perce  trails.  At  that  time  there  were  not  a  dozen 
habitations  between  the  Dalles  and  Walla  Walla,  where 
now  is  a  densely  settled  country  and  one  of  the  great  wheat 
belts  of  the  continent.  A  few  days  after  crossing  the  John 
Day  I  made  my  first  horse  trade.  An  old  school  teacher  in 
the  company  fell  in  love  with  my  horse,  and  not  only  gave  me 
a  better  animal,  but  almost  the  value  of  my  own  to  boot.  I 
began  then  to  flatter  myself  that  I  was  not  only  a  traveler, 
but  a  business  man  as  well.  But  alas!  I  had  many  a  sad 
lesson  to  learn  ere  I  got  my  "teeth  cut." 

Arriving  at  Walla  Walla,  then  a  small  village,  with  a 
Government  post  half  a  mile  away,  we  purchased  a  few 
supplies  and  then  pushed  on  to  the  mines.  Going  down  the 
Alpowwa  I  saw  apple  trees  planted  by  Father  Spaulding, 
of  blessed  memory,  in  1 836.  The  trees  were  thrifty  and 
some  of  them  very  large,  and  were  being  cared  for  by  Nez 
Perce  Indians.  The  good  Father  Spaulding,  with  other 
Presbyterian  missionaries,  had  come  among  these  people 
bearing  the  message  of  peace  and  good  will  and  they,  with 
the  exception  of  the  rebellion  of  Chief  Joseph,  had  ever  after 
adhered  to  his  gentle  teachings.  The  Nez  Perce  Indians 
are  the  most  intelligent  and  finest  looking  Indians  I  have  ever 
seen.  They  are  also  a  brave,  self-reliant  race,  and  Joseph's 
band  bears  the  distinction  of  being  the  only  Indians  on  the 
continent  with  the  steady  courage  to  charge  an  equal  num- 
ber of  the  enemy  in  the  open  field. 

We  crossed  Snake  River  at  Lewiston,  then  a  trading  vil- 
lage of  half  a  dozen  tents.  The  ferry  boat  was  towed  up  the 
river  half  a  mile  by  a  horse  and  then  rowed  across  with 
oars  pulled  by  two  men.  Lewiston  is  located  at  the  junction 
of  the  Snake  and  Clearwater,  but  we  went  by  way  of  Ca- 


TYPICAL  SCENE  IN  THE  LAVA  BEDS 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          33 

mas  Prairie  and  crossed  at  Craig's  ferry,  and  two  days  later 
landed  in  Oro  Fino  city.  Hundreds  of  miners  had  pre- 
ceded us,  and  when  we  arrived  the  ground  was  all  taken  up. 
I,  therefore,  found  a  job  at  sluice  forking  at  $75  per  month, 
a  boy's  wages.  Men  were  receiving  $5  per  day  of  ten  hours, 
but  for  night  work  $7.50  was  paid. 

I  remained  with  my  jcb  but  a  short  time,  having  found  a 
better  one  in  a  store,  more  suited  to  my  strength  and  at  bet- 
ter wages.  I  was  also  agent  for  Miller  &  Mossman's  ex- 
press and  received  a  good  commission  for  all  the  envelopes 
sold  bearing  their  name.  Envelopes  were  sold  at  $1  each, 
and  were  carried  to  Walla  Walla  by  pony  express.  The 
Miller  here  refered  to  was  then  plain  Heine  Miller,  express 
rider,  but  now  known  to  fame  and  the  world  of  letters  as 
"Joaquin"  Miller. 

The  little  store  where  I  was  employed  was  located  about 
three  miles  above  Oro  Fino  city  on  Rhode's  Creek,  the 
richest  placer  diggings  in  the  district.  Sunday  was  a  busy 
day  for  miners.  Clothes  had  to  be  washed,  picks  sharp- 
ened, letters  written  to  the  "folks  at  home,"  and  as  often 
happened,  "dust"  sent  to  them  also.  This  had  to  be  care- 
fully weighed  on  gold  scales,  a  receipt  given  and  the  dust 
marked  and  placed  in  a  buckskin  purse.  There  was  no 
other  means  of  communication  with  the  outside  world,  and 
both  letters  and  dust  must  be  sent  by  Miller  &  Mossman's 
express.  To  the  credit  of  Mr.  Miller,  be  it  said,  that  thieves, 
robbers  and  murderers  let  him  severely  alone.  Not  only 
that,  but  no  one  ever  lost  a  dollar  entrusted  to  Heine's  care, 
though  murders  and  robberies  were  quite  frequent,  and  it 
was  well  known  that  he  always  carried  a  large  quantity  of 
gold  dust;  but  they  simply  didn't  want  the  job  of  taking  it 
away  from  Heine  Miller. 


34  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

It  was  one  of  my  duties  to  take  the  "express  matter," 
letters  and  gold  dust,  to  Oro  Fino  in  time  for  the  Walla 
Walla  express  Monday  morning.  As  the  express  started  at 
6  o'clock  I  had  to  get  up  early,  besides  it  was  deemed  safest 
to  "hoof  down  the  trail"  before  daylight.  The  trail  was  a 
mere  foot  path  cut  through  the  bull  pines,  in  the  shadow  of 
which  imagination  more  than  once  pictured  a  lone  robber. 
But  I  always  carried  my  revolver  in  my  hand  and,  though 
a  boy,  I  was  almost  as  good  a  shot  as  Miller — at  least  I 
thought  so.  However,  I  always  arrived  on  time  and  without 
mishap  or  accident. 

After  delivering  my  express  matter  I  had  leisure  to  walk 
about  town,  view  the  sights  and  watch  the  swaying  crowds 
of  gamblers,  surething  sharps  and  other  forms  of  human 
flotsam  and  jetsam  as  they  fleeced  their  victims,  the  miners. 
One  occasion  I  shall  never  forget.  It  was  the  funeral  of  one 
of  the  prominent  citizens  of  Oro  Fino.  The  aforesaid  prom- 
inent citizen  bore  the  euphonious  cognomen  of  "Bob-up-the- 
creek."  Bob,  probably  at  his  christening,  was  given  another 
name  answers  as  well  as  another,  especially  among  the  aris- 
name  answers  as  well  as  another  especially  among  the  aris- 
tocracy of  which  Bob  was  an  honored  member.  Bob  was 
a  bad  actor,  too,  especially  when  under  the  influence  of 
liquor.  One  Sunday  Bob  imbibed  quite  freely  and  finally 
"declared  himself  chief."  There  were  none  who  cared  to 
dispute  with  Bob  his  self  assumed  title,  but  he  finally  ran 
"up  against"  an  old  Frenchman  who  kept  a  pie  stand.  Bob 
concluded  to  take  possession  of  the  stand,  but  his  right  to 
do  so  was  disputed  by  the  Frenchman.  To  settle  the  dispute 
the  Frenchman  emptied  the  contents  of  a  double  barreled 
shot  gun  into  Bob's  head.  That  settled  the  dispute  and  like- 
wise Bob. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  35 

Being  a  citizen  of  prominence,  his  friends  and  admirers 
determined  to  give  Bob  a  respectable  send  off.  Accordingly 
a  neat  coffin  was  purchased  and  Bob  reverently  placed  there- 
in. A  procession  was  formed  and  from  fifty  to  seventy-five 
of  his  friends  followed  his  remains  to  the  newly  made  ceme- 
tery on  the  hill.  All  were  in  full  dress — black  pantaloons, 
checked  flannel  shirt  with  white  collar,  and  with  a  revolver 
and  knife  swung  conveniently  to  the  belt.  Now,  no  self- 
respecting  or  prudent  gentleman  of  the  class  of  which  I  am 
speaking,  moved  abroad  in  those  days  without  the  ever 
handy  knife  and  pistol.  As  the  occasion  was  one  of  im- 
portance, I  followed  after  the  procession.  Arriving  at  the 
grave,  the  coffin  was  placed  upon  two  poles  laid  across  the 
vault.  The  burial  service  was  then  read  by  one  of  the 
mourners,  a  faro  dealer,  if  my  memory  serves  me  right,  a 
solemn  hymn  was  sung  and  then  all  that  was  mortal  of 
"Bob-up-the-creek"  was  consigned  to  the  grave.  Four 
lusty  mourners  then  began  shoveling  in  the  dirt.  When  the 
grave  was  about  two-thirds  filled,  a  repulsive  looking  vaga- 
bond, the  town  drunk,  threw  himself  across  the  grave  bel- 
lowing like  a  bull  buffalo,  and  exclaiming  "here  is  a  poor 
soul  gone  to  eternity  and  not  one  tear  shed  over  his  grave." 
Meanwhile  the  dirt  kept  falling — it  appeared  to  me  a  little 
faster,  when  the  old  drunk,  seeing  himself  about  to  be  buried 
alive,  crawled  upon  his  feet,  shaking  himself  very  much  as  a 
wet  dog  is  wont  to  shake  himself.  This  action  was  greeted 
with  peals  of  laughter  and  shouts  from  the  mourners.  Such 
was  the  funeral  of  "Bob-up-the-creek."  Shocked  and  dis- 
gusted I  turned  and  walked  down  the  hill  to  town,  to  be 
followed  soon  after  by  a  laughing,  jesting  crowd,  who  dis- 
persed to  their  different  "places  of  business"  to  lie  in  wait 
for  the  unwary  sucker,  the  miner. 


36  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

I  remained  at  the  store  until  the  proprietor,  Mr.  Vaughn, 
sold  out,  and  hearing  that  a  company  was  being  formed  at 
Pierce  City  to  go  to  the  Blackfoot  country  on  a  prospect- 
ing expedition,  I  went  there  and  applied  to  the  leader  for 
admission.  He  looked  me  over,  smiled  and  said  that  it  was 
too  dangerous  an  expedition  for  a  boy.  I  replied  that  I 
supposed  there  was  danger,  that  I  was  not  afraid  and  could 
shoot  as  good  as  any  of  them.  At  this  the  men  listening 
began  laughing  and  the  leader  told  me  he  didn't  want  me. 
Indignant,  I  turned  away,  but  was  followed  a  little  way  by 
a  rather  pleasant  looking  man.  He  said,  "My  boy,  you 
are  too  young  to  go  with  the  crowd.  They  are  a  rough  set 
and  not  fit  for  a  boy  of  your  age  to  associate  with."  He 
then  shook  hands  with  me  and  bade  me  good  bye. 

I  returned  to  Oro  Fino,  and  as  winter  was  approaching,  I 
joined  a  strong  party  and  started  back  to  Walla  Walla. 
This  was  deemed  prudent,  for  besides  the  robbers,  there 
were  rumors  of  Indian  troubles  after  we  should  have  passed 
beyond  the  Nez  Perce  country.  About  this  time  we  began 
hearing  rumors  of  the  Battle  of  Bull  Run,  and  this  formed 
the  chief  subject  for  conversation  around  the  camp  fire  of 
evenings.  At  Lewiston  a  very  dignified  Indian,  a  Nez 
Perce,  asked  permission  to  join  our  company  to  Walla 
Walla.  He  was  accompanied  by  a  boy  about  16  whom 
we  judged  to  be  his  son.  Permission,  of  course,  we  readily 
granted  and  we  proceeded  on  our  way.  That  evening  the 
usual  subject  of  conversation  came  up,  Northern  and  South- 
ern men  good  naturedly  discussing  the  news,  and  each  con- 
struing a  victory  for  his  side.  Finally  the  Indian  spoke  up 
and  said,  "I  think,  gentlemen,  I  can  settle  your  controversy. 
I  have  received  the  latest  papers  and  all  are  agreed  that  the 
battle  resulted  in  a  disaster  to  the  Federal  arms."  All 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  37 

looked  at  him  in  astonishment,  but  he  continued  and  gave 
us  a  vivid  description  of  the  battle.  We  at  once  knew  the 
speaker  to  be  none  other  than  Lawyer,  chief  of  the  Nez 
Perces,  scholar  and  graduate  of  an  eastern  college,  and  one 
of  the  bright  men  of  any  race — red  or  white.  I  met  him  after 
our  arrival  at  Walla  Walla  and  recognized  in  the  superbly 
dressed  man  our  fellow  traveler.  He  wore  a  broadcloth 
suit,  silk  hat  and  carried  a  gold  headed  cane.  His  son  was 
also  well  dressed. 

Again  following  the  old  Nez  Perce  trails,  which  everyone 
who  has  traveled  over  that  country  during  the  early  days 
will  remember,  we  proceeded  to  the  John  Day  River.  Here 
I  met  some  old  Lane  county  friends,  a  Mr.  Driskol  and  his 
son,  a  young  man  of  about  21  years  of  age.  They  had 
driven  over  the  mountains  a  band  of  cattle  and  turned  them 
on  the  range  at  John  Day  and  Rock  Creek.  Two  brothers 
named  John  and  Zim  Smith,  from  Douglas  county,  had  also 
driven  out  cattle  and  turned  them  loose  on  the  same  range. 
The  Smiths  had  returned  to  the  valley,  but  were  expected 
back  in  a  week  or  such  a  matter. 

Driskol  and  his  son  now  asked  me  to  remain  with  them 
and  assist  in  rounding  up  the  cattle  preparatory  to  leaving 
them  for  the  winter.  They  would  pay  me  good  wages  and 
then,  the  Smiths  returning,  we  would  all  go  home  together. 
The  free  wild  life  of  the  prairie  having  an  almost  irresistible 
charm  for  me,  it  did  not  require  much  persuasion  to  induce 
me  to  remain. 

Our  task  consisted  in  riding  the  river  and  tributary  streams 
and  driving  the  cattle  back  on  the  range.  The  men  at  the 
ferry  told  us  that  the  Columbias  were  friendly  and  to  be 
trusted.  They  cautioned  us  that  the  country  further  up  the 
river  and  Rock  Creek  was  frequently  raided  by  roving 


38  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

bands  of  Snake  Indians.  These  savages  were  hostile  at  all 
times,  and  this  was  one  reason  it  was  desirable  to  prevent 
the  cattle  straying  too  far  and  thus  falling  an  easy  prey  to 
the  Snakes.  They  also  said  it  would  be  prudent  to  keep  a 
sharp  lookout  when  riding  too  far  south.  We  continued 
riding  and  driving  in  the  cattle  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  hop- 
ing for  the  return  of  the  Smiths  before  venturing  too  far. 
But  they  not  returning,  we  decided  to  go  up  Rock  Creek 
above  the  cattle  and  drive  them  down. 

The  first  day  we  traveled  leisurely  along  and  made  about 
twenty  miles.  That  night  we  camped  and  made  our  beds 
in  a  rye  grass  bottom,  having  previously  cooked  our  supper 
and  riding  until  after  dark.  This  was  done  to  prevent  any 
roving  band  of  Snakes  that  might  be  in  the  country  from  dis- 
covering our  camp  and  attacking  us  at  disadvantage.  The 
old  gentlemen  Driskol  was  uneasy  and  he  and  his  son 
watched  our  camp  time  about.  I  offered  to  take  my  turn, 
but  the  old  gentleman  said  "the  boy  will  go  to  sleep,"  an 
arrangement  very  satisfactory  to  a  tired,  sleepy-headed  boy. 
The  next  morning  we  packed  up  and  rode  to  a  favorable 
place  and  cooked  our  breakfast.  While  we  were  eating  an 
Indian  rode  into  camp,  who  hailed  us  in  jargon  and  we  as- 
sumed at  once  that  he  was  a  Columbia.  He  said  he  had  lost 
a  horse  while  deer  hunting  and  if  we  were  going  any  fur- 
ther south  he  would  like  to  travel  with  us.  We  thought  little 
of  the  matter  and  readily  gave  permission,  the  more  so  a» 
he  carried  a  good  rifle  and  would  be  a  welcome  addition  to 
our  party  in  the  event  of  a  "scrap"  with  the  Snakes.  As  we 
proceeded  up  Rock  Creek,  we  still  found  cattle  tracks  and 
were  loth  to  turn  back.  We  halted  at  noon  to  rest  our  horses 
and  cook  our  dinner  by  the  side  of  a  pool  in  the  bed  of  a 
creek.  While  the  younger  Driskol  was  getting  dinner,  the 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  39 

elder  Driskol  keeping  a  watch,  a  wild  goose  lit  in  the  pond 
20  feet  away.  Picking  up  my  rifle  I  shot  its  head  off.  I 
will  now  confess  that  if  ever  a  foolish,  thoughtless  boy  got 
a  scolding  I  got  it  then  and  there,  from  the  elder  Driskol. 
He  declared  I  was  trying  to  bring  "the  Snakes  right  down  to 
murder  us  all."  I  was  sorry  of  course  for  my  thoughtless- 
ness, but  all  the  same  I  got  my  goose.  That  evening  that 
goose  was  the  subject  of  many  lectures,  was  in  fact  a  con- 
tinued story. 

As  evening  wore  on  and  we  were  getting  further  and  fur- 
ther away  from  our  camp  on  the  John  Day,  we  were  more 
than  usually  careful.  Patches  of  willows,  narrow  canyons 
and  high  rye  grass  bottoms  were  avoided.  In  fact,  we  kept 
on  open  ground  where  we  could  see  an  enemy  several  hun- 
dred yards  away.  We  figured  that  in  an  open  field  fight 
we  could  more  than  hold  our  own,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  we  were  only  four  in  number,  counting  the  Indian.  But 
by-and-by,  our  traveling  companion  became  a  source  of  con- 
siderable uneasiness.  When  questioned  regarding  his  lost 
horse  he  did  not  give  straight  replies,  but  was  evasive  and 
somewhat  contradictory,  and  Mr.  Driskol  began  to  have 
suspicions  regarding  his  friendly  intentions.  But  what  to 
do,  or  how  to  rid  ourselves  of  his  presence,  was  a  puzzling 
question.  Besides,  we  felt  that  we  were  safer  where  he 
could  be  watched  than  if  out  of  our  sight.  That  night,  after 
eating  our  suppers,  we  traveled  some  distance  after  dark 
and  stopped  on  a  level  piece  of  ground  away  from  the  creek 
bottom.  We  felt  safer  in  the  open  country  than  in  the  high 
rye  grass,  especially  on  account  of  our  Indian  companion. 
We  were  very  careful  not  to  let  the  Indian  see  that  we  were 
suspicious  of  him,  and  after  unsaddling  and  unpacking  our 
horses  all  but  the  elder  Driskol  rolled  up  in  their  blankets, 


40  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

the  Indian  choosing  a  spot  about  ten  steps  away  from  us. 
Before  lying  down,  it  was  deemed  best  to  keep  a  strict  watch 
on  our  fellow  traveler,  and  if  necessary  keep  him  with  us 
if  we  had  to  make  him  a  prisoner.  Of  course  nothing  was 
said  to  him  about  keeping  watch.  During  the  night  he  was 
several  times  detected,  cautiously  rising  on  his  elbow  and 
looking  around.  Discovering  the  guard  he  would  lie  down 
with  a  grunt  as  if  with  satisfaction. 

When  daylight  came  we  started  to  saddle  up  and  load 
our  two  pack  horses,  intending  to  go  some  distance  upon  our 
return  trip,  before  stopping  for  breakfast.  Saddles  were  on 
the  riding  horses  and  the  Driskols  were  loading  the  packs. 
I  had  been  directed  to  keep  a  close  watch  on  the  Indian, 
"and  if  he  attempts  to  get  away,  shoot  him,"  said  the  elder 
Driskol.  They  were  perhaps  twenty  steps  away,  and  one 
of  the  pack  horses  starting  off,  the  young  man  went  to  bring 
him  back.  The  old  gentleman  was  busy  with  the  pack, 
when  suddenly,  quick  almost  as  a  flash,  the  Indian  leaped 
upon  young  Driskol's  horse  and  started  off.  The  movement 
took  me  by  surprise  and  for  an  instant  I  sat  as  if  stupified. 
Then  seeing  the  rascal  going  like  sin,  I  raised  my  rifle,  took 
deliberate  aim,  and  fired.  The  Indian  threw  back  his  head 
and  throwing  his  arms  aloft,  plunged  headlong  into  the 
grass. 

"There  goes  that  d — d  boy,  shooting  another  goose," 
said  old  gentleman  Driskol,  almost  without  looking  around. 

The  young  man,  however,  saw  his  horse  galloping  in  a 
circle  back  to  the  other  horses.  Meantime  I  had  dropped 
my  muzzle  loader  and  with  revolver  stood  looking  at  the 
Indian  kicking  in  the  grass  forty  rods  away.  Mr.  Driskol 
now  ran  up  to  where  I  was  standing  and  pointing  to  the 
Indian,  I  said,  "It  wasn't  a  goose  this  time,  Mr.  Driskol." 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  41 

We  were  now  all  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  imagined  the 
Snakes  would  be  down  upon  us  in  no  time.  Hastily  fasten- 
ing the  packs,  we  then  took  the  lock  off  the  Indian's  gun 
and  breaking  the  stock,  threw  it  away.  The  pony,  belong- 
ing to  the  Indian  was  unsaddled  and  turned  loose,  and  we 
pulled  out  for  the  "home  camp"  in  a  hurry. 

Why  the  Indian  came  to  our  camp  we  could  never  un- 
derstand. He  would  have  stood  a  better  chance  of  stealing 
our  horses  by  watching  the  camp,  then  slipping  in  upon  us 
in  the  night  and  driving  them  away,  unless  it  was  to  throw 
us  off  our  guard.  The  probabilities  are  that  he  was  either 
a  Snake  or  a  renegade  Columbia  or  Umatilla  Indian,  and 
counted  on  getting  our  horses.  Finding  we  were  on  our 
guard,  and  seeing  an  opportunity  of  "swapping  horses"  while 
the  men  were  busy,  paid  no  attention  and  gave  no  thought 
to  the  boy.  Certain  it  was  our,  or  rather  the  old  gentleman 
Driskol's  watchfulness,  that  saved  us  from  being  left  afoot 
forty  miles  from  home.  Whether  he  had  confederates,  we 
never  knew,  as  we  lost  no  time  in  putting  as  many  miles  be- 
tween us  and  the  "Snake  country"  as  possible.  During  the 
day  we  kept  in  the  open  country,  avoiding  any  point  where 
an  advantage  could  have  been  taken  of  us.  We  of  course 
talked  over  the  affair  of  the  morning,  but  not  once  was  the 
goose  mentioned  by  Mr.  Driskol.  He  did  not  even  refer 
to  the  goose  when  apologizing  to  me  for  scoldings  he  had 
given  me. 

We  arrived  late  at  night  at  the  ferry,  and  found  every- 
thing in  turmoil  of  excitement.  Two  men,  an  old  man  and 
his  son,  Briggs  by  name,  if  I  remember  correctly,  had  been 
killed  by  the  Indians  in  Tye  Valley,  about  thirty  miles 
away.  The  murders  created  intense  excitement,  all  fearing  it 
was  the  signal  for  a  general  massacre  of  the  settlers  around 
the  Dalles  and  the  isolated  traders  on  the  Walla  Walla 


42  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

road.  The  Smith  brothers  had  returned  and  had  been  as- 
sisting the  two  men  at  the  ferry  in  fortifying  the  post.  The 
house,  a  mere  shack,  was  being  walled  in  with  rock,  port 
holes  for  the  rifles  being  left.  Our  absence  had  created  un- 
easiness on  the  part  of  the  Smiths,  but  they  knew  it  would 
be  futile  to  attempt  to  find  us.  Besides,  it  was  thought  more 
than  probable  that  we  had  already  been  massacred  and  to 
undertake  to  find  us  would  be  only  to  throw  their  own  lives 
away. 

Their  surprise  and  pleasure  was  therefore  great  when  we 
rode  into  the  station  at  1  1  o'clock  at  night.  They  at  once 
informed  us  of  the  murder  of  the  old  man  and  his  son,  and 
heartily  congratulated  us  when  in  return  we  told  them  of 
our  own  adventure.  The  two  men  at  the  ferry  were  posi- 
tive that  the  Indian  did  not  belong  in  that  section,  and  by 
our  prudence,  they  said,  we  had  saved  our  horses  and  prob- 
ably our  lives.  The  next  day  we  all  joined  in  completing 
the  fortifications,  and  when  finished  felt  that  we  could 
"stand  off"  two  or  three  tribes.  Yet,  notwithstanding  our 
confidence,  we  felt  that  in  the  event  of  a  general  outbreak 
we  were  still  in  a  dangerous  position  and  that  every  care 
should  be  exercised.  Upon  my  own  part,  I  felt  no  uneasi- 
ness. Zim  Smith  was  there,  a  rollicking  devil-may-care  fel- 
low, and  I  believed  he  alone  was  the  match  for  all  of  the 
Indians  east  of  the  Cascade  Mountains.  A  careful  guard 
was  maintained,  however,  our  horses  kept  near  at  hand,  and 
we  anxiously  awaited  results. 

Several  days  thus  passed.  The  Smiths  and  Driskols 
seriously  discussing  the  situation.  They  had  ventured  their 
all  in  the  cattle  speculation,  and  to  abandon  them  to  the 
mercy  of  the  red  devils  was  an  alternative  hard  to  contem- 
plate. But  what  could  four  men  and  a  boy  do  opposed  by 
hundreds  of  blood  thirsty  savages?  Under  all  the  circum- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          43 

stances,  it  was  finally  determined  to  embrace  the  first  op- 
portunity of  getting  out  of  the  country.  Our  lives,  they 
argued — I  had  no  say — were  worth  more  than  cattle.  Be- 
sides, we  could  not  save  the  cattle  cooped  up  in  a  stone 
fort  as  we  were.  We  knew  that  the  news  would  be  carried 
to  Walla  Walla  and  that  returning  miners  would  travel  in 
strong  parties. 

A  few  days  later  a  company  of  forty  or  fifty  men  came 
along,  and  as  they  were  well  armed,  we  determined  to  join 
them.  The  two  men  at  the  ferry  also  abandoned  the  place 
and  went  with  us. 

I  omitted  to  say  that  Wall  Cushman,  one  of  the  owners 
of  the  ferry,  had  gone  below  some  time  before  my  arrival 
there,  and  I  had  no  opportunity  of  renewing  my  acquain- 
tance of  the  spring  before. 

We  arrived  at  the  Dalles  without  incident  worthy  of  men- 
tion. There  I  sold  my  horse,  saddle  and  bridle,  rifle  and 
revolver  to  a  man  who  said  he  was  going  on  a  prospecting  ex- 
pedition, and  took  a  Columbia  River  steamer  to  Portland. 
As  horses  and  arms  were  in  demand,  not  much  trouble  was 
experienced  in  selling,  and  most  of  the  company  with  which 
I  was  traveling  made  similar  disposition  of  their  "outfits." 

Going  down  the  river,  Zim  Smith,  who  was  quite  a  talker, 
told  the  story  of  the  goose  in  my  presence  and  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  crowd.  I  was  terribly  mortified,  and  informed 
his  brother  that  "Zim  was  making  fun  of  me."  He  laughed 
and  mollified  my  feelings  so  far  as  to  say,  "Zim  is  only 
talking  and  means  nothing  by  it."  "In  fact,  he  thinks  you 
are  a  great  boy."  But  I  had  made  up  my  mind  that  I  had 
seen  enough  of  the  wild  life  of  the  mines,  mountains  and 
plains;  I  would  go  home  and  attend  school.  No  more  In- 
dians, miners,  and  rough  men  for  me.  I  had  seen  and  ex- 


44          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

perienced  enough,  and  was  heartily  sick  of  it  all.  I  had  ex- 
perienced a  "Call  of  the  Wild"  and  was  satisfied.  And  I 
want  to  say  to  my  young  readers  again,  whenever  you  ex- 
perience a  similar  call — don't. 

The  trip  home  was  made  mostly  on  foot,  the  great  flood 
of  the  early  winter  of  1861-2  having  washed  out  bridges 
and  roads,  seriously  interfering  with  stage  travel.  An  occa- 
sional boat  made  trips  as  far  as  Albany  and  Corvallis,  but 
we  failed  to  make  proper  connections.  Hence  from  Oregon 
City  to  Albany  we  traveled  on  foot,  but  it  was  a  weary 
journey  in  the  mud. 

Here,  if  the  reader  will  pardon  a  digression,  I  will  relate 
a  little  anecdote  illustrative  of  the  times.  We  were  passing 
through  French  Prairie  in  Marion  County.  The  spot,  one 
of  the  richest  and  most  beautiful  in  all  Oregon,  derived  its 
name  from  the  fact  that  it  was  settled  principally  by  Can- 
adian French,  employees  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company. 
They  were  typical  frontiersmen,  hospitable  and  generous  to 
a  degree.  We  had  asked  at  several  farm  houses  for  accom- 
modations for  the  night,  but  there  was  so  much  travel  that 
all  were  full  and  running  over.  Our  party  consisted  of  six, 
the  Driskols,  Smiths,  Ben  Allen  and  myself.  Trudging 
through  the  mud,  all  were  tired  and  hungry.  As  we  neared 
the  upper  edge  of  French  Prairie,  Ben  Allen  remarked  that 
he  had  an  old  friend,  a  Frenchman,  and  he  was  satisfied  we 
would  be  welcomed  to  his  home.  He  lived  nearly  a  mile 
off  the  road,  but  that  was  better  than  walking  to  Salem,  six 
or  seven  miles.  Accordingly,  we  turned  off  to  the  home  of 
Ben's  friend.  The  old  Frenchman  received  us  with  open 
arms.  He  was  simply  delighted  and  gave  us  the  best  of 
everything  the  house  afforded.  In  fact,  the  old  man  fairly 
danced  with  delight  that  "Bin"  and  his  friends  had  paid  him 
a  visit. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          45 

Seated  in  home-made  rocking  chairs,  before  an  open  fire 
place  in  which  was  a  roaring  fire  of  oak  logs,  it  was,  as 
Zim  Smith  expressed  it,  "solid  comfort."  Finally  supper 
was  announced,  and  the  announcement  was  never  more  wel- 
come than  to  that  hungry  crowd.  Besides  ham,  vegetables 
and  other  accompaniments  of  a  farm  house  dinner,  there  was 
a  certain  stew  with  dumplings.  This  was  an  especially  tooth- 
some dish,  and  all  partook  freely  and  with  relish.  As  we 
neared  the  end  of  the  meal  our  host  exclaimed,  addressing 
Mr.  Allen: 

"Well,  .Bin,  how  did  you  like  the  cat!" 
"Cat,  h — 1"  said  Ben. 

"Oh,  yes  Bin,  he  very  fine  cat.  We  fatten  him  three 
week." 

Somehow,  our  dinner  came  to  a  sudden  close.  Urged 
by  our  host  to  have  more,  all  politely  declined,  "Bin"  say- 
ing it  was  very  good,  indeed,  but  he  had  eaten  heartily  and 
didn't  care  for  more. 

The  next  morning  we  bade  our  hospitable  host  adieu,  be- 
fore breakfast,  saying  we  were  anxious  to  get  to  Salem  as 
we  expected  to  catch  a  boat  for  Albany,  Corvallis  or  pos- 
sibly Eugene  City. 

That  was  the  first  cat  I  ever  ate  and  since  that  time  I 
have  eaten  bear,  wild  cat,  horse,  mule,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  never  ate  a  more  toothsome  dish  than  the  old  French- 
man's cat — until  I  discovered  it  was  cat.  Hence  I  am  in- 
clined to  the  opinion  that  it  is  all  a  matter  of  education. 

I  arrived  at  home  after  Christmas  and  during  the  rest  of 
the  winter  attended  the  district  school.  Had  I  been  told 
that  that  little  district  school  was  destined  to  be  the  last  I 
should  ever  attend,  I  possibly  should  have  better  applied  my- 
self to  my  studies.  I  remained  on  the  farm  that  summer  as- 
wsting  in  the  general  work.  In  the  fall  of  1862,  Joaquin 


46          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Miller  and  Anthony  Noltner  started  the  "Herald,"  a  weekly 
newspaper,  at  Eugene  City.  Instead  of  going  to  school,  as 
my  father  wished,  I  applied  for  and  obtained  a  position  as 
"devil"  in  the  office.  Mr.  Noltner  was  of  the  opinion  that 
the  name  was  very  appropriate  in  my  case.  However,  I 
soon  gained  the  confidence  and  esteem  of  my  employers.  As 
evidence  of  this,  I  remained  three  years,  and  during  the 
time  did  not  lose  three  days,  that  is,  if  we  except  the  sev- 
eral occasions  when  for  a  week  or  two,  the  Herald  was  "ex- 
cluded from  the  United  States  mails  for  disloyal  utterances." 
Publication  would  be  suspended  for  a  week  or  so  and  then 
come  out  under  another  name.  The  columns  would  be 
filled  with  news  and  "strictly  literary  matter"  for  a  short 
time.  Then  Mr.  Miller  would  launch  out  and  give  expres- 
sion to  his  opinion  on  things  in  general  and  certain  politicians 
in  particular.  After  a  few  weeks  something  said  would  in- 
cur the  displeasure  of  the  postmaster,  and  we  would  then 
have  to  begin  all  over  under  a  new  name.  And  do  you 
know,  I  grieve  to  admit  it  now,  but  those  little  vacations 
came  so  regularly  that  I  began  to  enjoy  them — I  could  go 
hunting. 

Thus  Miller  and  Noltner  struggled  along,  issuing  their 
publication  under  three  or  four  different  names.  There  was 
talk  at  different  times  of  providing  Mr.  Miller  a  residence 
at  Fort  Alcatraz,  with  board  and  lodging  at  the  expense  of 
the  U.  S.  Government.  Now,  I  may  be  "telling  tales  out 
of  school"  but  there  are  few  left  to  care,  save  Mr.  Miller 
and  the  writer,  and  I  trust  that  "Heinie"  will  pardon  me  in 
thus  living  over  the  stirring  times  of  our  youth. 

In  the  spring  of  1 864,  I  think  it  was,  Mr.  Miller  sold  his 
interest  in  the  paper  to  his  partner,  Mr.  Noltner.  After  that 
the  office  had  few  charms  for  me,  and  more  and  more  my 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          47 

spirits  bent  to  a  "Call  to  the  Wild."  This  feeling  became 
the  more  pronounced  by  reason  of  a  little  misunderstanding 
with  Major  Rinehart  who  commanded  the  troops  at  that  time 
stationed  at  Eugene  City.  The  circumstances  leading  up 
to  the  "misunderstanding,"  briefly  are  that  a  friend,  Henry 
Mulkey,  had  been  arrested  for  a  political  offense  by  order 
of  Major  Rinehart,  and  it  had  been  determined  to  send  him 
to  Ft.  Vancouver  and  possibly  to  Alcatraz.  I  went  to  Major 
Rinehart's  headquarters  and  applied  for  a  pass  to  see  Mr. 
Mulkey.  That  I  played  good-goody — lied  like  a  tombstone 
in  order  to  get  the  pass,  is  not  necessary  here  to  state,  but  I 
got  it  and  arranged  an  escape  with  Mulkey.  That  the  ar- 
rangement miscarried  was  due  to  Mr.  Mulkey,  and  not  to 
the  prudence  of  Major  Rinehart  or  the  failure  upon  my  part 
to  carry  out  the  program. 

Be  that  as  it  may.  Mulkey  was  re-captured,  and  my  own 
arrest  was  ordered.  A  little  boy,  God  bless  him,  overheard 
Major  Rinehart  give  the  order  to  Lieutenant  Tichnor,  and 
ran  and  told  me.  Now,  I  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  a  resi- 
dence either  at  Ft.  Vancouver  or  Alcatraz — :-nor  did  I  know 
how  long  it  would  last.  Consequently  I  leaped  upon  the 
best  horse  I  saw  standing  hitched  to  the  Court  House  fence 
and  rode  out  of  town,  sending  the  horse  and  saddle  back 
by  a  son  of  "Uncle  Jimmie"  Howard.  That  boy  is  now  a 
Baptist  minister  and  I  seriously  question  if  he  would  now  ac- 
commodate me  so  far  as  to  return  a  "lifted  horse." 

Under  all  the  circumstances,  I  concluded  to  absent  my- 
self permanently — at  least  until  Major  Rinehart's  soldiers 
should  move  on.  Securing  an  "outfit"  I  joined  a  small  com- 
pany in  the  mountains,  crossing  the  Cascades  by  McKinzie 
Pass. 


CHAPTER  V. 

TAKING  REVENGE  ON  MARAUDING  SNAKES. 

On  reaching  the  east  side  of  the  mountains,  it  became  nec- 
essary to  travel  in  the  night,  at  least  through  the  open  coun- 
try between  the  Deschutes  and  Bridge  Creek.  The  Snake 
Indians  were  raiding  the  country,  and  encumbered  as  we 
were  with  a  small  pack  train,  and  with  only  a  small  com- 
pany, we  deemed  that  plan  safest.  During  the  day  a  care- 
ful guard  was  kept  out  and  no  fires  lit.  We  thus  passed 
safely  through  the  dangerous  country  to  Bridge  Creek.  We 
arrived  there  in  the  morning  and  finding  quite  a  company 
from  the  Dalles,  concluded  to  "lay  by"  a  day  or  two  and 
rest  our  animals. 

About  3  o'clock  that  evening  we  saw  a  horseman  coming, 
and  riding  as  if  his  life  were  at  stake.  Coming  up,  the 
horseman  proved  to  be  Jim  Clark,  who  informed  us  that  the 
Indians  would  be  upon  us  in  a  few  minutes  and  that  they 
had  killed  his  brother-in-law,  George  Masterson,  a  lad  of 
18  years.  Horses  were  at  once  rounded  up  and  prepara- 
tions made  for  defense.  While  the  horses  were  being  driven 
in,  Clark  related  the  circumstances,  which  left  a  doubt  in  our 
minds  as  to  the  fate  of  young  Masterson.  Accordingly, 
and  as  quickly  as  possible,  every  man  that  could  be  spared 
from  camp  saddled  his  horse  and  started  back  with  Clark, 
either  to  save  the  boy  or  avenge  his  death. 

The  circumstances,  as  related  by  Clark,  were  that  he  and 
the  boy  had  left  the  house,  afterwards  known  as  the  "Burnt 
Ranch"  for  a  load  of  fire  wood.  The  house  was  located 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  49 

on  the  John  Day  River  about  a  mile  below  the  mouth  of 
Bridge  Creek.  Opposite  the  house  the  river  makes  a  sud- 
den bend  around  the  point  of  a  high  mountain,  where  the 
action  of  water  and  erosion  of  time  had  washed  away  the 
base  of  the  mountain  leaving  a  precipitous  cliff,  hundreds 
of  feet  high.  Under  this  cliff  a  great  amount  of  drift  wood 
has  been  deposited,  and  here  Jim  Clark  went  for  his  fire 
wood.  The  high  bank  of  the  river  next  the  house,  which 
was  600  yards  away,  had  been  cut  down  so  as  to  give  an 
easy  grade  for  loaded  wagons.  Clark  said  for  the  first  time 
they  had  left  their  rifles  and  other  arms  at  the  house,  im- 
munity from  attack  rendering  them  careless. 

While  loading  the  wagon  they  happended  to  look  towards 
the  house,  which  was  in  plain  view,  and  saw  it  in  flames. 
They  could  also  see  the  Indians  around  the  house.  Now  the 
only  means  of  escape  was  crossing  the  river,  the  way  they 
had  come.  The  mountains  rose  hundreds  of  feet  perpendic- 
ularly at  their  backs,  rendering  escape  impossible  in  that  di- 
rection. Hastily  cutting  the  harness  from  the  horses  they 
mounted,  and  Clark,  who  was  a  cool  headed  man  in  danger, 
and  brave  as  a  lion  withal,  told  the  boy  to  follow  him.  As 
they  plunged  into  the  ford  they  saw  a  number  of  Indians 
lined  upon  the  opposite  bank.  But  it  was  the  only  alter- 
native, and  the  Indians  thinking  the  two  men  were  charging 
them,  ran  back  out  of  sight.  As  they  emerged  from  the 
river,  which  here  was  a  shallow  ripple,  and  started  up  the 
cut  in  the  bank,  the  Indians  discovered  they  were  unarmed 
and  attempted  to  close  in  on  them.  However,  Clark  and 
the  boy  had  reached  the  top  of  the  bank,  and  turning  their 
horses  up  the  river  towards  the  mouth  of  Bridge  Creek,  sped 
for  dear  life. 

As  soon  as  they  had  passed  beyond  the  reach  of  the 


50  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

bullets  and  arrows  of  the  savages,  Clark  tried  to  persuade 
the  boy  to  hold  up  and  save  his  horse.  The  boy,  however, 
was  thoroughly  frightened  and  drove  his  horse  to  the  top  of 
his  speed.  Clark,  meanwhile,  had  looked  back  and  saw  the 
Indians  mounting,  and  now  began  a  race,  on  one  side  for 
life,  on  the  other  for  scalps.  The  race  was  prolonged 
scarcely  two  miles  when  young  Masterson's  horse  began  to 
fail.  He  was  then  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  of  Clark,  who, 
nursing  his  horse,  kept  just  beyond  reach  of  the  bullets. 
Gradually  the  gap  between  Clark  and  the  boy  narrowed,  and 
slowly  the  Indians  began  to  gain.  At  last  Clark  rode  up  be- 
side the  boy  whose  horse  was  thoroughly  spent.  He  re- 
mained beside  him  until  an  Indian,  riding  a  black  horse, 
Clark  said,  ran  up  within  twenty  feet  of  him.  The  boy  saw 
him  raise  his  gun,  and  throwing  himself  from  his  horse  with 
the  exclamation,  "O,  Lord,"  was  lost  to  view  in  the  dust. 
The  Indian  was  at  least  fifty  yards  ahead  of  the  others  and 
did  not  stop  to  kill  the  boy,  probably  leaving  him  for  those 
behind.  Sure  of  Clark,  he  kept  on,  his  black  and  savage 
heart  leaping  with  joy  in  anticipation  of  torturing  him. 

After  tolling  the  Indian  some  little  distance  and  coming 
to  a  turn  in  the  road,  Clark  let  his  horse  out  and  did  not 
slacken  his  speed  until  our  camp  was  reached. 

As  may  be  well  imagined,  we  did  not  spare  our  horses  on 
the  return,  Clark  having  been  provided  with  a  fresh  animal. 
But  it  was  six  or  seven  miles  back  to  where  Masterson  left 
his  horse.  When  we  arrived  there  the  search  began.  But 
failing  to  find  the  body,  the  awful  possibility  began  to  dawn 
upon  us  that  he  had  been  captured  alive.  Clark  was  wild. 
Had  he  found  the  dead  body  of  the  boy,  it  would  have  been 
nothing  compared  to  the  thought  of  his  capture  alive  and 
death  at  the  stake.  A  search  now  began  for  the  trail  of  the 
Indians,  as  they  had  evidently  left  before  our  approach. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  51 

But  while  this  was  going  on,  some  of  the  men  found  the  boy 
under  a  bank,  shielded  from  sight  by  over-hanging  earth  and 
matted  roots.  When  pulled  out  he  was  more  dead  than 
alive,  his  long  bath  in  the  water  rendering  him  practically 
helpless. 

When  sufficiently  revived,  he  told  us  that  when  he  threw 
himself  from  his  horse,  he  leaped  into  the  brush,  and  coming 
to  the  creek,  a  small  stream,  ran  down  until  he  saw  the  over- 
hanging bank.  He  said  several  times  the  Indians  in  their 
search  for  him  were  within  a  few  feet  of  him. 

After  finding  of  young  Masterson,  we  returned  to  camp. 
Clark  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  property,  besides  that  which 
had  been  consumed  in  his  burned  home.  He  was  positive  the 
party  did  not  comprise  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  warriors. 
He  begged  us  to  help  him  recover  his  property,  or  to  at  least 
get  revenge.  Accordingly  Perry  Maupin,  John  Atterbury, 
myself  and  three  others,  whose  names  I  cannot  now  recall, 
volunteered  for  the  undertaking,  making  seven  in  all. 

Getting  off  at  daybreak  we  struck  the  trail  of  the  In- 
dians and  followed  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  country 
would  permit.  In  places  the  trail  was  very  dim,  and  this 
occasioned  considerable  delay,  but  just  about  sunset  the 
camp  of  the  savages  was  located.  As  night  was  now  upon 
us,  it  was  deemed  best  to  await  until  daylight  to  make  the 
attack.  We  were  satisfied  they  would  remain  until  morn- 
ing, probably  feasting  on  some  of  the  stolen  stock.  They 
were  camped  on  the  west  branch  of  Trout  Creek  about  one 
mile  above  the  forks.  Their  position  was  two  hundred  yards 
from  the  creek  at  a  spring,  and  surrounded  by  a  few  scatter- 
ing willows  and  quaking  asps.  On  every  side  was  open 
ground,  with  a  high,  bald  mountain  on  the  north  side,  and 
presenting  a  splendid  opportunity  for  attack.  The  location 


52  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

of  the  camp  also  indicated  that  they  felt  secure  from  pur- 
suit. Everything  being  settled,  both  as  to  the  manner  of 
approach  and  point  of  attack,  we  withdrew  and  awaited 
the  coming  of  morning.  Unsaddling  our  horses  and  picket- 
ing them,  a  portion  lay  down  in  an  effort  to  get  some  sleep, 
the  others  standing  guard. 

At  3  o'clock  we  saddled  our  horses  and  by  taking  a 
circuitous  route  were  enabled  to  approach  the  camp  from 
the  southwest  side,  and  by  following  a  slight  depression  in 
the  ground  reached  a  point  within  150  yards  of  where  the 
savages  rested  in  fancied  security.  To  prevent  the  possibility 
of  arousing  them  by  any  accidental  noise,  we  had  dis- 
mounted some  distance  back,  and  carefully  led  our  horses 
by  the  head,  lest  a  stumble  or  neigh  might  discover  us  to 
the  enemy.  It  was  yet  dark  when  we  reached  a  spot 
opposite  the  camp,  and  standing  at  our  horses'  heads,  im- 
patiently awaited  the  dawn.  Streaks  of  light  soon  began 
shooting  through  the  eastern  sky,  but  it  seemed  an  eternity 
before  we  could  see  well  enough  to  shoot.  Any  one  who 
has  ever  experienced  waiting  under  similar  circumstances 
will  appreciate  our  impatience  and  the  slow  passage  of 
time. 

But  daylight  came  at  last,  and  swinging  into  our  saddles, 
we  formed  in  line  and  slowly,  cautiously  advanced.  As  our 
heads  rose  above  the  slight  elevation  that  had  obscured  the 
camp,  our  revolvers  in  hand,  we  spurred  our  horses  into  a  run 
and  began  yelling  like  furies.  Scarcely  had  we  done  so  when 
several  Indians  sprang  up  and  rushed  towards  us  with  hands 
up  and  calling  at  the  top  of  their  voices: 

"Warm  Springs!    Warm  Springs!     Wascos,  Wascos!" 

They  were  calling  in  jargon,  and  recognizing  them  as 
friendly  Indians,  and  not  Snakes  and  therefore  enemies,  both 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          53 

Jim  Clark  and  Perry  Maupin  called  out,  "For  God's  sake, 
boys,  don't  shoot!"  We  halted  among  them  without  firing 
a  shot.  They  then  related  to  us  their  story.  They  were 
camped  at  the  place  hunting  when  the  Snakes  came  upon 
them  about  1  o'clock  the  previous  .evening.  A  skirmish  had 
taken  place,  but  without  serious  consequences  on  either  side, 
when  the  Snakes  made  overtures  for  peace,  saying  they  did 
not  want  to  fight  them,  that  they  were  only  enemies  of  the 
•white  man.  They  proposed,  in  order  to  settle  the  terms  of 
peace,  that  the  two  chiefs,  Polina,  or  as  some  give  the  name, 
Penina,  chief  of  the  Snakes,  and  Queapama,  chief  of  the 
Warm  Springs  and  Wascos,  should  meet  half  way  alone 
and  unarmed. 

All  the  Warm  Springs  earnestly  opposed  the  meeting, 
feeling  certain  that  treachery  was  meditated.  But  Quea- 
pama believed  otherwise,  and  the  two  chiefs,  in  sight  of 
their  people,  went  out  to  the  meeting.  Scarcely  had  Quea- 
pama reached  the  Snake  chief  when  he  was  treacherously 
murdered  by  a  concealed  assassin.  Burning  for  revenge, 
the  Warm  Springs  renewed  the  fight,  when  the  Snakes  drew 
off  and  were  seen  no  more. 

They  now  volunteered  to  go  with  us  in  pursuit  of  the 
Snakes,  who,  they  declared,  could  not  be  many  hours  ahead. 
The  Snakes,  they  argued,  could  be  easily  overtaken  as  they 
were  practically  in  their  own  country  and  would  travel 
leisurely.  We  knew  the  two  tribes  were  traditional  enemies 
and  the  presence  of  their  dead  chief  was  evidence  that  their 
friendship  for  us  could  be  relied  upon.  The  Warm  Springs, 
however,  held  the  Snakes  in  great  dread  and  never  ventured 
far  into  their  country.  The  present  camp  was  on  neutral 
territory,  and  was  the  main  hunting  grounds  of  the  former 
tribe.  Polina  was  especially  dreaded,  and  was  believed  by 


54          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

the  Warm  Springs  to  be  bullet-proof.  Many  told  of  having 
shot  him  in  the  middle  of  the  forehead,  but  that  the  bullet 
dropped  down  without  injuring  him.  But  may-be-so  the 
white  man  had  "good  medicine"  and  could  kill  him.  Al- 
though with  such  superstitious  dread  we  did  not  value  the  aid 
of  the  Warm  Springs  very  highly,  yet  we  knew  them  to  be 
good  trailers  and  skillful  scouts,  hence  their  company  was 
accepted,  the  more  readily  as  we  would  soon  enter  the  pine 
timber  of  the  McKay  mountains. 

Accordingly,  after  filling  our  "cantenas"  with  dried  veni- 
son from  the  camp  of  our  allies,  we  again  took  the  trail.  Our 
horses  were  fresh  and  as  the  Warm  Springs  were  such 
splendid  trailers  we  made  good  progress,  especially  after 
entering  the  pine  timber.  The  Indians  acted  also  as  scouts, 
skirting  each  side  of  the  trail  and  keeping  well  in  advance. 
No  effort  had  here  been  made  by  the  Snakes  to  cover  their 
tracks,  and  we  followed  at  a  rapid  pace.  The  trait 
led  up  the  west  branch  of  Trout  creek  and  in 
a  southerly  direction.  We  had  not  gone  more  than 
four  miles  when  we  came  to  the  camp  of  the  night 
before.  Their  fires  were  still  burning,  showing  their 
utter  contempt  for  the  Warm  Springs.  We  followed 
up  Trout  creek  to  its  head  and  passed  through  a  low  gap 
on  to  the  head  of  McKay  creek,  which  flows  in  a  south- 
westerly direction  to  its  junction  with  Crooked  river.  Just 
after  passing  the  divide  one  on  the  scouts  dropped  back  and 
informed  us  that  the  enemy  was  not  far  ahead.  They  said 
the  grass  cut  by  the  hoofs  of  their  ponies  was  as  fresh  as 
when  growing.  It  was  not  thought  advisable  to  overtake 
them  in  the  timber  until  they  had  gone  into  camp.  We 
therefore  sent  word  ahead  to  proceed  with  great  caution, 
and  to  keep  well  back  from  the  trail.  Proceeding  now  with 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          55 

the  steathliness  of  a  cat  creeping  upon  a  bird,  the  scouts 
kept  well  behind  the  ridges  and  only  occasionally  venturing 
to  peep  over  a  ridge  or  point  into  the  creek  bottom  down 
which  the  Snakes  were  traveling. 

About  3  o'clock  they  came  back  and  announced  that  the 
Snakes  had  gone  into  camp  about  a  mile  or  such  a  matter 
ahead.  A  council  was  now  held  to  discuss  the  advisability 
of  attacking  them  at  once  or  waiting  until  morning.  The 
Warm  Springs  were  eager  for  an  immediate  attack.  The 
camp  was  located  in  the  edge  of  an  open  glade,  presenting 
a  splendid  opportunity  for  a  close  approach.  We  naturally 
looked  to  Jim  Clark  as  our  leader  and  adviser,  he  being 
older  and  far  more  experienced  than  any  of  our  party,  unless 
it  was  our  allies.  Clark  finally  advised  an  immediate 
attack.  "We  are  getting  into  the  Snake  territory,  they 
might  move  again  tonight  and  we  would  be  compelled  to  go 
further  on,"  and,  he  declared,  "we  might  bite  off  more 
than  we  can  chew."  That  settled  the  matter,  and  our  allies 
were  in  high  glee. 

It  was  arranged  that  a  portion  of  the  Warm  Springs 
should  approach  from  the  west,  keeping  well  behind  the 
hill,  and  at  the  moment  of  attack  should  stampede  their 
horses,  while  we  were  to  make  a  detour  and  approach  at  the 
point  of  timber  nearest  the  camp. 

After  separating  we  turned  to  the  left  through  the  thick 
timber,  keeping  well  behind  the  ridge  until  we  were  about 
opposite  the  camp.  Here  we  dismounted  and  tied  our 
horses  in  a  thicket  of  firs.  Silently,  almost  as  shadows,  we 
moved  up  the  ridge  and  crossing  over  the  crest  began  the 
descent  through  the  woods,  the  moccasined  feet  of  our  dusky 
allies  falling  noiselessly  upon  the  pine  quills.  We  almost 
held  our  breath,  lest  the  least  noise,  the  accidental  breaking 


56  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

of  a  twig,  should  startle  the  enemy.  Though  this  was  to 
be  my  first  real  Indian  fight,  I  felt  no  fear  and  not  so  much 
excitement  as  when  stalking  my  first  buck.  As  we  neared 
the  edge  of  the  wood  and  were  almost  prepared  for  the 
rush,  the  Indians  on  the  other  side  raised  the  yell.  Led  on 
by  their  eagerness  they  had  come  into  view  of  the  camp  and 
seeing  they  were  discovered  raised  the  war-whoop  and  made 
for  the  herd.  The  Snakes  sprang  to  their  weapons  and 
started  to  save  their  horses.  Concealment  being  now  useless 
we  burst  out  of  the  wood  and  opened  fire.  As  we  did  so 
the  savages  turned  down  the  creek  and  fled  toward  the 
nearest  shelter.  I  remember  dropping  upon  my  left  knee, 
and  taking  deliberate  aim  at  a  big  fellow,  fired.  At  the 
crack  of  the  rifle  he  sprang  into  the  air  and  fell,  and  I  then 
knew  I  had  made  one  "good  siwash."  Springing  to  my 
feet  I  drew  my  revolver,  a  Colt's  navy,  and  kept  with  the 
crowd  in  a  running  fight  until  the  Snakes  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  woods.  To  have  followed  further  would  have  been 
madness,  notwithstanding  they  were  thoroughly  frightened 
and  running,  as  one  of  the  Warm  Springs  expressed  it» 
"like  klanacks"  (black-tailed  deer). 

Jim  Clark  now  called  a  halt.  To  follow  further  would 
result  in  some  of  us  getting  killed,  as  the  Snakes  would  then 
have  the  advantage.  Reloading  our  rifles  we  returned  to 
count  the  result  of  our  victory.  We  found  four  dead  In- 
dians, including  one  that  had  had  his  leg  broken  by  a  rifle 
ball  and  had  been  dispatched  by  our  allies,  who  now  pro- 
ceeded to  scalp  the  dead  according  to  the  usages  and  tradi- 
tions of  their  race.  It  was  a  gory  spectacle,  and  when  they 
generously  offered  to  divide  the  bloody  trophies,  we  politely 
declined,  saying  the  scalps  belonged  to  them,  as  they  had 
lost  their  great  chief  by  the  treachery  of  the  dead  Indians. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          57 

The  operation  of  lifting  the  scalp  was  a  simple  one.  A  knife 
was  run  around  the  head  just  above  the  ears  and  the  skin 
peeled  off.  That  was  the  first  I  ever  saw,  and  I  had  no 
desire  to  see  the  operation  repeated.  Some  of  those  that 
escaped  must  have  been  wounded,  but  we  had  no  means  of 
knowing  the  number  of  these. 

The  expedition  had  been  partially  successful,  but  keen 
regret  was  felt,  not  alone  by  our  party,  but  by  our  allies,  that 
old  Polina  had  escaped.  He  was  the  scourge  of  the  whites 
in  all  southeastern  Oregon,  and  while  he  lived  there  could  be 
no  such  thing  as  peace.  He  was  reserved,  however,  for  the 
rifle  of  Howard  Maupin,  father  of  the  youth  who  was  with 
us  and  was  kneeling  by  my  side  when  I  fired  at  the  fleeing 
savages.  But  that  will  be  reserved  for  a  future  chapter. 
Besides  killing  four  Indians  we  had  captured  a  number  of 
ponies  and  some  of  the  stolen  stock  belonging  to  the  whites. 
The  ponies  we  gave  to  our  friends,  the  Warm  Springs,  be- 
sides a  captured  gun.  After  destroying  everything  of  value 
that  we  could  not  carry  with  us,  including  some  camp  effects, 
we  returned  to  our  horses  and  started  back.  We  parted  with 
our  friends  at  their  camp  of  the  night  before,  who  lost  no 
time  after  their  arrival  there  in  packing  up  and,  taking  their 
dead  chief  with  them,  making  haste  to  reach  the  reservation 
as  soon  as  possible. 

After  bidding  them  adieu,  we  traveled  on  our  return  until 
daylight  when  we  stopped,  unsaddled  our  horses  and  picketed 
them  to  graze  and  rest  for  a  couple  of  hours.  Saddling  up 
again  we  pushed  on  to  Bridge  Creek,  where  we  arrived 
towards  evening.  We  had  been  in  the  saddle  now,  with 
slight  intermissions,  for  more  than  forty-eight  hours,  and  rest 
and  sleep  were  a  most  welcome  boon.  Our  horses,  too,  were 
nearly  spent,  and  here  we  remained  to  rest  and  recruit. 


58          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

We  remained  at  Bridge  Creek  several  days,  recruiting  our 
horses  and  resting  from  the  fatigues  of  our  recent  severe  and 
trying  expedition.  In  reading  my  simple  narrative  some  may 
say  we  were  taking  desperate  chances  in  following  an  enemy, 
outnumbering  us  several  times,  into  his  own  country.  That 
is  true  in  a  sense.  But  we  had  adopted  his  own  tactics,  and 
depended  on  a  surprise.  Had  we  come  out  in  the  open  and 
shown  ourselves,  we  would  probably  have  fared  badly  in 
such  an  unequal  contest.  Secrecy,  therefore,  was  our  only 
safe  course,  and  that  required  both  skill  and  caution.  We 
knew  the  Indians  would  be  off  their  guard,  that  they  would 
never  dream  of  pursuit,  and  when  surprised  would  scatter 
like  a  covey  of  quail.  Another  object  was  to  come  to  close 
quarters  as  quickly  as  possible,  so  as  to  use  our  revolvers  when 
the  rifles  had  been  emptied.  Howard  Maupin,  an  old  Indian 
fighter,  and  father  of  the  youth  who  accompanied  us,  once 
remarked  that  in  "close  quarters  an  Indian  can't  hit  the  side 
of  a  barn."  I  understood  this  when,  years  after  in  the  first 
battle  in  the  lava  beds  with  the  Modocs,  I  asked  General 
Wheaton  to  signal  to  Colonel  Bernard  to  cease  firing  and  I 
would  charge  with  the  volunteers..  We  had  them  hemmed 
between  two  lines,  with  an  intervening  space  of  not  more  than 
1 50  yards.  He  refused,  saying  we  had  lost  too  many  men 
and  the  country  would  not  justify  the  sacrifice  of  human  life. 
We  had  fought  them  all  day,  and  had  suffered  severely,  and 
finally  retreated  under  cover  of  darkness.  It  cost  nearly  three 
hundred  men  to  close  the  Modoc  war,  including  the  life  of 
the  gallant  General  Canby.  I  believed  then — I  know  now — 
we  could  have  whipped  them  in  twenty  minutes  with  the  loss 
of  less  than  a  dozen  men. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ONE  SAD  TALE  FROM  CANYON  CITY  HISTORY. 

After  a  few  days  at  Bridge  Creek  we  joined  a  pack  train 
going  to  Canyon  City  from  The  Dalles,  and  though  the  road 
was  infested  with  savages,  who  mercilessly  slaughtered  small 
parties,  we  arrived  at  the  then  flourishing  mining  camp  with- 
out mishap  or  adventure.  Canyon  City  at  that  time  was  a 
typical  mining  camp.  There  were  congregated  every  known 
character,  race,  profession  and  creed.  Under  a  rough  ex- 
terior the  lawyer,  doctor,  minister,  the  rude  western  frontiers- 
man and  the  staid  and  sober  farmer,  worked  side  by  side. 
There  was  no  distinction  of  dress  among  that  restless,  surging, 
throbbing  throng  of  humanity,  drawn  thither  by  the  all- 
absorbing  motive — the  glittering  dust  that  lay  hidden  be- 
neath the  gravel  and  sands  of  the  streams  and  along  the 
ravines.  The  bond  of  sympathy,  however,  among  the  miners 
was  close,  and  as  warm  hearts  beat  beneath  the  flannel  shirts 
as  ever  throbbed  in  the  breast  of  man. 

Here,  too,  were  congregated  those  human  vultures  that 
feed  and  fatten  upon  the  frailties  and  follies  of  their  fellow- 
men.  The  town  proper  numbered  about  six  saloons  to  every 
legitimate  business  house.  Of  evenings  the  gambling  hells 
were  a  glare  of  light,  and  music,  both  vocal  and  instrumental, 
floated  out  upon  the  streets  to  tempt  the  miners  to  enter,  while 
away  an  hour,  and  incidentally  part  with  their  well-earned 
dust.  Some  of  these  hells  had  "lady  waitresses,"  poor, 
faded,  blear-eyed  creaures,  in  gaudy  finery,  and  upon  whose 


60  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

features  was  stamped  the  everlasting  brand  of  God's  out- 
lawry. These  dens  of  iniquity  were  only  too  frequently  the 
scene  of  awful  tragedies,  and  the  sawdust  floors  drank  up 
the  blood  of  many  a  poor  unfortunate.  If  the  encounter  was 
between  two  gamblers  the  miners  paid  little  attention.  But 
if,  as  was  often  the  case,  some  miner,  crazed  with  an  over- 
dose of  "double-distilled  damnation,"  fell  a  victim  to  the 
revolver  or  knife  of  a  gambler,  there  was  sure  to  be  "some- 
thing doing."  Among  these  restless,  adventurous  men  there 
was  a  semblance  of  law,  but  its  administration  was  too  often 
a  mockery  and  a  farce.  This,  however,  only  applies  to  the 
early  days  of  the  camp. 

One  of  the  saddest  of  life's  tragedies  is  associated  in  my 
mind  with  an  employee  of  one  of  these  places.  His  name 
was  Brown,  and  he  was  a  musician  of  some  merit.  He  had 
with  him  a  young  and  beautiful  wife  and  infant  daughter. 
He  played  the  violin  at  night  and  received  $  1 0  for  each  of 
the  seven  nights  of  the  week.  He  was  a  man  of  good  morals 
as  far  as  could  be  observed,  and  sober  withal.  One  morning 
he  left  the  saloon  at  2  o'clock,  as  was  his  custom.  From  the 
moment  he  passed  out  of  the  door  he  disappeared  from  the 
sight  of  men  as  effectually  as  the  light  of  an  extinguished 
candle.  He  was  popular  and  had  not  a  known  enemy  in  the 
world.  But  whether  he  was  murdered  and  his  body  con- 
cealed, or  whether  he  left  the  country,  remained  an  unsolved 
mystery.  The  latter  theory  had  few  or  no  adherents,  as  he 
was  tenderly  attached  to  his  wife  and  child.  Be  that  as  it 
may.  Soon  after  the  disappearance  of  the  musician,  a  young 
physician,  who  was  handsome,  accomplished,  and  talented, 
made  his  advent  into  Canyon  City.  In  due  time  he  became 
interested  in  the  comely  widow,  and  when  sufficient  time  had 
elapsed,  and  no  tidings  came  back  of  the  missing  husband  and 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  61 

father,  legal  steps  were  taken,  a  divorce  secured  and  the 
young  physician  made  the  widow  his  wife.  As  years  rolled 
away  and  the  mines  "played  out,"  the  Doctor  and  his  wife 
and  little  girl  moved  to  a  town  in  the  Willamette  valley. 
There  he  prospered,  gaining  not  only  gold  but  that  which  is 
far  more  precious — the  love  and  respect  of  his  fellow-man, 
and,  being  a  public-spirited  man,  he  took  an  active  interest  in 
political  and  other  public  matters.  In  the  campaign  of  1 874 
he  received  the  nomination  from  his  party  for  State  Senator. 
His  election  was  a  foregone  conclusion,  as  his  party  had  not 
only  a  majority  of  votes,  but  his  talents  as  a  speaker  and  his 
popularity  among  all  classes  were  in  his  favor.  About  that 
time,  however,  the  exposures  regarding  the  past  life  of  Sena- 
ton  John  H.  Mitchell  were  given  to  the  world  by  the  press 
of  Oregon.  To  offset  the  charges,  there  were  dark  hints  and 
innuendoes  thrown  out  about  the  disappearance  of  Brown  and 
the  subsequent  marriage  of  the  widow  to  the  young  doctor. 
The  talk  was  easily  silenced,  as  it  was  shown  that  the  doctor 
came  to  Canyon  City  after  Brown's  disappearance;  but  it  was 
enough  to  sting  the  proud,  sensitive  heart  of  the  young  man  to 
the  quick.  The  mere  fact  that  a  suspicion  of  dishonor 
attached  to  his  name  was  sufficient  to  cause  him  to  withdraw 
from  public  life  forever.  As  an  orator  he  had  few  equals 
and  no  superiors,  and  only  for  his  innocent  connection  with 
the  Brown  tragedy  at  Canyon  City  would  have  achieved  a 
name  the  equal  of  that  of  his  distinguished  brother,  Senator 
and  Vice-President  Hendricks  of  Indiana. 

Dr.  Hendricks  and  his  wife  have  long  since  passed  over 
the  river,  to  the  white  walled  city  of  God.  And  there,  let  us 
hope,  their  rest  will  be  eternal,  and  that  the  poison  tongue 
of  slander  will  come  not  to  blast,  to  blacken  and  to  sting. 

I  remained  at  Canyon  City  and  vicinity  until  September 


62          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

and  then  returned  to  the  valley.  During  the  summer  and 
fall  many  depredations  were  committed  by  Indians.  A 
party  of  eight  men  prospecting  in  the  mountains  to  the  west 
were  surprised  and  all  killed.  Every  one  had  died  appar- 
ently in  his  bed.  The  little  stream,  a  tributary  of  the  south 
John  Day  river,  was  ever  after  known  as  "Murderers' 
Creek."  The  next  year,  I  think  it  was,  Joaquin  Miller, 
then  Judge  of  Grant  county,  led  a  company  of  a  hundred 
miners  against  the  Snakes  in  Harney  valley.  He  was  joined 
by  Lieutenant,  now  Judge  Waymire  of  Oakland,  in  com- 
mand of  a  troop  of  U.  S.  volunteers.  They  were  repulsed 
with  some  loss  and  returned  without  accomplishing  anything 
of  importance.  The  war  dragged  along  until  the  summer 
of  1867,  when  Chief  Polina  led  a  band  of  warriors  into 
the  John  Day  country  north  of  Bridge  Creek,  where  they 
robbed  a  settler  named  Clarno  of  a  number  of  cattle  and 
horses  and  started  back.  Howard  Maupin  then  lived  at 
Antelope  valley,  15  miles  from  the  Clarno  place.  The 
Indians  attempted  to  capture  his  horses  in  the  night,  but 
were  frustrated  by  the  watchfulness  of  the  dogs  that  gave 
the  alarm.  The  horses  were  corralled,  and  Maupin  and 
his  son  and  a  young  German  stood  guard  all  night.  The 
next  morning  Jim  Clark  and  John  Attebury  arrived  at  the 
station,  and  it  was  determined  to  follow  and  punish  the 
Indians  and  recover  the  stolen  stock.  They  followed  the 
trail  into  the  rough  brakes  of  Trout  Creek  and  located  the 
camp.  The  Indians  had  halted  in  a  small  basin  on  the 
mountain  side  through  which  ran  a  small  branch,  bordered 
with  willows,  where  they  had  killed  an  ox  and  were  enjoying 
a  feast.  The  five  men  approached  as  near  as  possible  and 
then  leaving  their  horses  made  their  way  up  the  ravine  upon 
which  the  unsuspecting  savages  were  camped.  Howard 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          63 

Maupin  was  armed  with  a  Henry  rifle,  a  present  to  the  old 
hero  from  General  George  Crook.  Silently  the  men  made 
their  way  up  the  rough  and  rugged  ravine  until  they  lay  con- 
cealed seventy  yards  away.  Taking  deadly  aim  the  five 
men  fired,  killing  four  Indians.  The  Indians  fled  to  the 
protection  of  a  rugged  cliff  of  rocks,  but  Maupin's  rifle 
kept  following  them  with  deadly  effect.  One  Indian  was 
picked  out  as  the  chief  and  fell  at  the  crack  of  the  rifle.  He 
raised  on  his  hands  and  halloed  to  the  others  until  they 
reached  the  shelter  of  the  rocks.  It  required  two  more  shots 
to  finish  him,  and  thus  died  Polina,  or  Penina,  the  leader  of 
the  Snakes  and  scourge  of  the  white  man.  The  shot  from 
Howard  Maupin's  repeating  rifle  closed  the  Snake,  or  Sho- 
shone  war,  and  peace  reigned  until  their  great  uprising  under 
Chief  Egan  in  1877.  . 

For  a  year  or  more,  or  until  the  spring  of  1868,  I  fol- 
lowed the  hum-drum  life  of  a  printer.  A  call  of  duty  com- 
pelled me  to  lay  all  else  aside  to  care  for  an  invalid  brother, 
Judge  J.  M.  Thompson.  He  was  dying  of  chronic  dys- 
pepsia. Physicians  had  given  him  up.  He  was  a  mere 
shadow,  and  while  we  had  little  hope  of  recovery,  we 
determined  to  take  him  into  the  mountains.  As  soon,  there- 
fore, as  spring  opened  we  made  our  preparations.  Our 
provisions  consisted  of  unbolted  flour  and  salt.  Nothing  else 
was  taken — no  tea,  coffee,  or  indeed  anything  else  save  our 
bedding,  guns  and  ammunition.  We  journeyed  up  the 
McKinzie  fork  of  the  Willamette.  Game  was  everywhere 
abundant  and  this  and  bread  baked  from  our  flour 
constituted  our  only  food.  It  was  going  back  to  nature. 

A  week  or  so  after  we  arrived  at  our  camp,  my  younger 
brother  killed  a  very  large  bear  that  had  just  come  out  of  his 
hibernating  quarters  and  was  as  fat  as  a  com  fed  Ohio 


64          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

porker.  An  old  hunter  endeavored  to  persuade  my  brother 
to  eat  some  of  the  fat  bear  meat,  assuring  him  it  would  not 
make  him  sick.  Now,  grease  was  his  special  aversion,  and 
to  grease  the  oven  with  any  kind  of  fat  caused  him  to  spit 
up  his  food.  Finally,  to  please  the  old  hunter,  he  ate  a 
small  piece  of  fat  bear  meat.  Very  much  to  his  surprise, 
it  did  not  make  him  sick.  The  next  meal  he  ate  more,  and 
after  that  all  he  wanted.  He  gained  flesh  and  strength  rap- 
idly, and  it  was  but  a  short  time  until  he  could  walk  a 
hundred  yards  without  assistance.  After  that  his  recovery 
was  rapid  and  sure. 

Now,  high  up  on  the  McKinzie  we  were  told  of  a  hot 
spring,  and  that  vast  herds  of  elk  and  deer  came  there 
daily  to  lick  the  salt  that  was  precipitated  on  the  rocks  by 
the  hot  water.  We  determined  to  move  there.  But  when 
we  arrived  we  found  a  rushing,  roaring,  turbulent  river,  75 
yards  wide,  between  us  and  the  hot  spring.  The  deer  and 
elk  were  there  all  right,  the  great  antlered  monarchs  tossing 
their  heads  in  play,  but  safe  as  if  miles  away.  In  vain  we 
sought  a  narrow  place  where  we  could  fell  a  tree.  We 
found,  however,  a  spot  where  the  water  was  smooth,  though 
swift  as  a  mill-race,  and  we  determined  to  make  a  canoe. 
Accordingly  we  set  to  work,  and  after  many  tedious  days, 
laboring  with  one  axe  and  fire  our  canoe  was  completed.  I 
was  something  of  an  expert  in  the  management  of  a  canoe 
and  when  it  had  been  placed  in  the  river,  made  a  trip  across. 
It  was  a  success,  and  delighted  with  our  achievement,  we 
began  ferrying  over  our  effects.  One  after  another,  every- 
thing but  our  clothing  and  cooking  utensils  were  ferried  over, 
provisions,  that  is,  the  flour  and  salt,  rifles,  ammunition,  bed- 
ding, in  fact  all  but  the  above  articles.  My  younger  brother 
was  assisting  me  with  the  canoe,  and  the  last  trip  with  the 


CAPTAIN  JACK'S  CAVE  IN  THE  LAVA  BED  STRONGHOLD 


RUNWAY  AND  FORT  IN  THE  LAVA  BEDS 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          65 

last  load  was  being  made.  Like  the  pitcher  that  goes  often 
to  the  well,  immunity  had  bred  carelessness,  with  the  result 
that  the  boat  was  turned  over  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
and  we  only  saved  our  lives  by  swimming.  That  night  we 
camped  beneath  the  forest  giants.  A  good  fire  was  lighted, 
bread  made  on  a  piece  of  cedar  bark  and  meat  cooked 
on  a  stick  and  eaten  out  of  our  fingers.  That  was  indeed 
getting  back  to  nature,  but  a  more  dire  misfortune  was  to 
befall  me  the  first  night.  As  before  stated,  we  had  pitched 
our  camp  beneath  the  shelter  of  forest  giants.  Age  after 
age  the  quills  had  been  falling,  forming  a  mould  several 
inches  thick.  Before  retiring  that  night  I  laid  my  solitary 
pair  of  trousers  and  drawers  on  the  ground  before  the  fire 
to  dry  out  by  morning.  They  dried.  I  awoke  in  the  middle 
of  the  night  to  find  that  my  last  garments  had  been  consumed, 
leaving  but  the  waistband  of  my  trousers.  The  mould 
slowly  dried,  the  fire  had  followed,  leaving  me  about  the 
most  forlorn  individual  that  ever  was  blessed  with  white 
hide.  Now  that  was  going  back  to  nature  with  a  vengeance. 
In  front  rushed  a  roaring,  foaming  river,  and  relief  was 
fifty  miles  away.  But  what  was  I  to  do,  but  simply  do  the 
best  I  could  with  a  shirt  and  the  waist-band  of  my  trousers. 
The  next  day  we  constructed  a  shelter  of  cedar  bark  in 
the  event  of  rain.  And  now  I  am  going  to  repeat  a  story 
at  the  risk  of  being  denounced  as  a  "nature  fakir."  We 
had  with  us  a  band  of  dogs,  trained  for  hunting.  There 
were  seventeen,  all  told,  and  of  every  breed,  but  with  a 
mixture  of  bloodhound  to  give  the  "staying  qualities."  We, 
or 'rather  I,  had  borrowed  them  of  settlers  living  on  the 
river  fifty  miles  below.  They  would  chase  a  bear  or  cougar 
all  day,  and  if  treed,  would  remain  and  bay  around  the 


66  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

tree  until  I  came.  The  second  night  in  camp  an  immense 
timber  wolf  came  up  close  to  camp  and  gave  a  prolonged 
howl.  The  dogs  all  broke  away,  but  they  came  back 
faster  than  they  went  out.  The  wolf  followed  and  caught 
one  of  them,  a  large,  full-grown  dog,  and  gave  him  one 
bite  behind  the  shoulder.  The  dog  gave  one  yelp  and 
when  we  reached  the  spot,  ten  feet  from  our  bed,  he  was 
dead.  To  make  sure  that  the  dog  was  bitten  but  once,  the 
next  morning  I  partly  skinned  him  and  found  that  the  ribs 
were  crushed  and  broken.  Now  if  a  timber  wolf  can  kill 
a  dog  with  one  bite  on  the  back,  why  not  a  young  caribou 
at  one  bite  on  the  breast?  That  question  I  leave  to  others 
to  solve. 

But  to  return  to  my  forlorn  and  altogether  ridiculous 
situation.  With  needle  and  thread  it  would  have  been  an 
easy  matter  to  manufacture  a  pair  of  buckskin  pantaloons 
such  as  I  had  worn  in  years  gone  by  and  would  have 
welcomed  in  my  present  predicament.  But  needles,  thread, 
scissors,  razor  and  combs  had  followed  the  cooking  utensils 
to  the  bottom  of  the  river.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but 
simply  to  "grin  and  bear  it,"  and  I  did  so  with  the  best 
possible  grace.  On  an  exploring  expedition  one  day  I  found 
a  tall  tree  on  the  bank  of  the  river  at  a  spot  where  the 
channel  was  contracted  between  narrow  banks.  I  had  no 
axe  and  therefore  set  to  work  to  burn  it  down,  but  it  was  a 
weary  task.  Day  after  day  I  tended  that  fire,  keeping  in 
the  shade  to  avoid  the  hot  rays  of  the  sun,  and  after  six 
weeks  of  waiting  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  tree 
spanning  the  river,  and  affording  me  a  means  of  reaching 
clothing.  But  I  could  not  go  to  the  settlements  clothed  like 
the  Georgia  Major,  minus  the  spurs.  During  the  period  of 
waiting  for  the  tree  to  fall,  I  had  made  a  needle  of  bone 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  67 

and  taking  an  empty  flour  sack  proceeded  to  manufacture 
a  pair  of  legs  which,  with  infinite  pains,  I  stitched  to  the 
waistband  of  my  long  lost  trousers  and  added  wooden  pegs 
to  insure  stability  and  strength  to  the  flimsy  ravelings.  In 
order  to  form  a  fair  idea  of  my  appearance,  one  must  imagine 
a  youth  with  a  six  weeks'  growth  of  hair  and  beard,  a 
shirt  that  had  to  be  taken  off  once  a  week  to  wash,  a  black 
band  around  his  waist,  to  which  was  stitched  and  pegged 
parts  of  flour  sacks.  I  say,  imagine  all  this  and  you  can 
form  some  idea  of  a  youth  who,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, was  rather  proud  of  his  good  looks.  My  brothers 
called  me  "Robinson  Crusoe,"  and  I  imagine  the  resem- 
blance between  the  unlucky  sailor,  marooned  on  an  island, 
and  a  wretched  young  fellow  marooned  in  the  depths  of 
the  Cascade  mountains  without  clothing  enough  to  hide  his 
nakedness,  was  not  an  inapt  comparison. 

However,  I  was  now  happy.  A  tree  spanned  the  river 
and  parts  of  flour  sacks  covered  fny  limbs,  and  I  would  go 
to  Mr.  Allen's  place,  sixty  miles  below  and  get  my  clothing. 
Crossing  the  river,  however,  I  discovered  that  our  horses, 
left  in  a  prairie,  had  "skipped  out."  I  knew  they  would 
be  caught  at  Mr.  Allen's  place,  and  the  next  day  I  started 
out.  All  the  dogs  followed.  They  seemed  to  have  an 
antipathy  for  my  brothers,  and,  try  as  they  would,  they 
could  not  make  friends  with  them.  Indeed,  I  have  observed 
through  life  that  children  and  dogs  have  an  affinity  for  me. 
I  started  in  the  morning  and  made  about  35  miles  the  first 
day,  camping  and  sleeping  beside  a  fallen  tree  against 
which  I  kindled  a  big  fire.  After  a  breakfast  of  cold  bread 
and  venison  roasted  on  a  stick,  I  started  on  the  final  lap  of 
my  journey.  About  a  mile  from  Mr.  Allen's  home  is  a 
»pot  known  to  campers  as  "Rock  House,"  where  the  moun- 


68  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

tains  crowd  the  river  bank,  leaving  a  space  of  not  more 
than  thirty  feet  between  the  almost  precipitous  bluff  and 
the  roaring,  foaming  river.  From  an  overhanging  rock  a 
spring  of  ice-cold  water,  rivaling  the  Hypocrene  in  purity, 
bursts  forth  and  plunges  into  the  river.  The  space  had 
grown  up  with  young  maples,  and  the  underbrush  being 
cleaned  out,  formed  an  ideal  camping  place  for  hunters 
and  berry  pickers.  I  was  congratulating  myself  on  not 
meeting  a  solitary  individual  when  I  reached  "Rock  House" 
and  found  it  blocked  with  wagons  and  tents.  I  cast  one 
look  at  the  foaming  river  and  another  at  the  bluff.  I  had 
passed  through  some  scenes  of  danger,  but  never  before 
had  I  been  half  so  frightened.  It  was  too  late  to  retreat, 
the  bluff  could  not  be  scaled  and  the  river  was  out  of  the 
question.  Nerving  myself,  I  determined  to  go  ahead,  come 
what  might.  In  front  of  one  of  the  wagons  stood  a  lady 
with  whom  I  was  well  acquainted.  I  asked  her  how  I 
could  get  through.  She  replied  without  recognizing  me 
that  I  would  have  to  go  through  camp.  As  I  passed  around 
the  wagon  I  came  face  to  face  with  Judge  Lemley's  wife. 
Her  home  had  been  my  home  for  years  and  next  to  my 
mother  and  sisters  I  reverenced  her  above  all  women  of 
earth.  She  looked  at  me.  I  bowed  and  she  nodded  her 
head  and  I  passed  on.  No  sooner  had  I  passed  out  of 
sight  than  Mrs.  McDaniels,  the  first  lady  I  met,  ran  to 
Mrs.  Lemley  and  said:  "Did  you  see  that  man?"  "O," 
replied  Mrs.  Lemley,  "it  was  only  some  old  lousy  hunter." 
I  had  made  my  escape  and  no  one  had  recognized  me.  I  was 
jubilant,  happy.  But  horror  of  horrors!  At  a  turn  of  the 
road  I  came  full  on  a  whole  bevy,  flock,  troop  or  herd  of 
young  girls,  and  at  their  head  was  my  "best  girl."  I  here 
submit  and  affirm,  that  had  I  foreseen  this,  rivers,  moun- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  69 

tains,  grizzly  bears,  Indians,  all  the  dangers  of  the  wild 
would  have  had  no  terrors  for  me  at  that  moment.  My 
dogs  closed  round  me  and  the  girls  at  sight  of  that  "old 
man  of  the  woods,"  that  awful  apparition,  ceased  their 
laughter.  With  sobered  faces  they  shied  around  me  as  I 
strode  past,  and  when  fairly  safe  broke  into  a  run  for 
camp.  I  heard  them  running,  and  in  imagination  could  see 
their  scared  faces.  But  I  was  safe — no  one  had  recog- 
nized me  and  I  was  again  happy. 

Arriving  at  Mr.  Allen's,  I  related  to  him  the  story  of 
my  misfortunes.  He  trimmed  my  hair,  gave  me  a  shave 
and  after  changing  my  "clothes,"  I  once  more  assumed  the 
semblance,  as  Mrs.  Allen  expressed  it,  "of  a  Christian  man." 

That  evening  I  saddled  a  horse  and  rode  back  to  the 
camp.  I  began  then  to  see  the  full  humor  of  the  whole  affair, 
but  it  required  an  hour  to  convince  them  that  I  was  really 
the  strange  apparition  that  passed  through  camp  that 
morning. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

COLONEL  THOMPSON'S  FIRST  NEWSPAPER  VENTURE. 

I  remained  at  the  home  of  Mr.  Allen  a  few  days,  making 
frequent  visits,  you  may  be  sure,  to  the  camp  of  my  friends. 
I  then  returned  to  our  camp  at  the  hot  springs.  My  brother 
had  become  quite  strong  and  my  other  brother  then  decided 
to  return  to  the  valley.  Left  alone,  we  indulged  in  long 
rambles  in  the  mountains.  Taking  a  pair  of  blankets  each, 
and  baking  up  a  lot  of  bread,  we  would  strike  out.  We  never 
knew  where  we  were  going,  but  wandered  wherever  fancy 
led.  These  tramps  often  lasted  a  week  or  ten  days.  If  our 
bread  gave  out  we  simply  went  without  bread  until  our 
return  to  camp.  During  one  of  these  trips  we  ascended  one 
of  the  Three  Sisters,  snow  mountains  standing  together  and 
reaching  to  the  realms  of  the  clouds.  Like  mighty  sentinels, 
white  as  the  driven  snow,  they  constitute  one  of  the  grandest 
sights  to  be  seen  on  this  or  any  other  continent.  To  the 
north  of  these  mountains  and  in  a  valley  formed  by  the 
angle  of  the  three  mountains,  we  explored  the  largest  glacier 
to  be  found  in  the  United  States.  In  this  manner  the  months 
wore  away  until  the  approach  of  the  fall  storms  admon- 
ished us  that  our  wandering  life  must  come  to  a  close, 
but  we  had  found  that  which  we  sought,  perfect  health. 
When  we  went  to  the  mountains  in  the  spring  my  brother 
weighed  84  pounds,  and  when  we  reached  Eugene  City  on 
our  return  he  weighed  165,  nearly  doubling  his  weight.  I 
had  also  gained  heavily,  in  fact,  nearly  50  pounds.  I 
mention  this  that  others  seeking  that  most  precious  of  all 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  71 

blessings,  perfect  health,  may  know  how  and  where  to 
find  it — by  simply  going  back  to  nature. 

Soon  after  my  return  to  civilization  I  embarked  in  my 
first  newspaper  venture.  I  was  employed  in  the  office  as 
compositor  and  foreman  and  at  the  expiration  of  the  first 
month  had  to  take  the  "plant,  fixtures  and  good  will,"  for 
my  pay.  In  fact,  I  was  given  the  office  on  a  promise  to 
run  the  paper  and  keep  it  alive.  I  so  far  succeeded  that  after 
a  year  and  a  half  I  sold  out,  clearing  $1200.  The  paper, 
the  Eugene  City  Guard,  is  still  in  existence. 

From  there  I  went  to  Roseburg  and  started  the  Plain- 
dealer.  In  this  I  had  the  moral  support  and  hearty  good 
will  of  General  Joseph  Lane,  as  well  as  other  citizens  of 
the  county.  My  success  was  phenomenal,  my  subscription 
list  running  up  to  1200  in  two  years.  But  as  in  all  else 
in  this  world,  success  was  not  attained  without  gaining  the 
enmity  and  bitter  hatred  of  my  would-be  rivals  in  business. 
Theirs  was  an  old  established  paper,  conducted  by  two 
brothers,  Henry  and  Thomas  Gale.  They  soon  saw  their 
business  slipping  away  and  sought  to  regain  it  by  indulging 
in  abuse  of  the  coarsest  character.  I  paid  no  further  atten- 
tion to  their  attacks  than  to  occasionally  poke  fun  at  them. 
One  Saturday  evening  I  met  one  of  the  brothers  in  the  post- 
office.  He  began  an  abusive  harrangue  and  attempted  to 
draw  a  pistol.  I  quickly  caught  his  hand  and  struck  him 
in  the  face.  Bystanders  separated  us  and  he  left.  I  was 
repeatedly  warned  that  evening  to  be  on  my  guard,  but  gave 
the  matter  little  concern.  The  next  morning,  Sunday,  June 
11,  1871,  I  went  to  my  office  as  was  my  custom,  to  write 
my  letters  and  attend  to  some  other  matters  before  going 
to  church.  On  leaving  the  office  I  was  joined  by  a  young 
friend,  Mr.  Virgil  Conn.  As  we  proceeded  down  the  street 


72  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

towards  the  postofiice  I  saw  the  brothers  standing  talking  on 
the  street.  One  looked  up  and  saw  me,  evidently  spoke  to  his 
brother,  and  they  then  started  toward  me.  I  saw  at  once 
that  it  was  to  be  a  fight  and  that  I  must  defend  myself. 
Some  said  I  could  have  avoided  a  meeting  by  turning  in  a 
different  direction.  Probably  I  could,  at  least  for  a  time, 
but  I  had  started  to  the  postoffice  and  there  I  intended  to 
go.  As  we  approached  the  young  men,  one  of  them 
dropped  behind,  and  as  I  passed  the  first  one  he  dealt  me 
a  blow  with  a  heavy  cane.  At  the  same  instant  the  other 
drew  a  pistol  and  fired,  the  bullet  taking  effect  in  my  side 
and  passing  partly  through.  Stunned  by  the  blow  on  my 
cheek,  I  reeled  and  drawing  my  pistol  fired  point  blank  at 
the  breast  of  the  one  who  had  shot  me.  I  was  then  between 
the  men,  and  turning  on  the  one  with  the  cane,  he  threw  up 
his  hands,  as  if  to  say  "I  am  unarmed."  As  I  again  turned 
he  quickly  drew  his  revolver  and  shot  me  in  the  back  of 
the  head,  and  followed  it  up  with  another  shot  which  was 
aimed  at  the  butt  of  my  ear.  1  felt  the  muzzle  of  the 
revolver  pressed  against  my  ear,  and  throwing  up  my  head 
the  bullet  entered  my  neck  and  passed  up  through  my  mouth 
and  tongue  and  lodged  back  of  my  left  eye.  As  I  rushed 
at  him  he  fired  again,  the  bullet  entering  the  point  of  my 
shoulder  while  another  entered  my  body.  That  was  his 
last  shot. 

I  was  taken  to  my  home  in  a  blanket  and  few  thought 
that  I  would  live  to  reach  it.  I  was  not,  however,  done 
for  yet,  and  the  next  Thursday  was  out  riding  with  one 
of  my  physicians.  The  affair  created  the  wildest  excite- 
ment, a  noted  surgeon,  Dr.  Sharpies,  coming  from  Eugene 
City  to  attend  me.  Throughout  the  Eastern  States  there 
was  various  comment  by  various  publications,  referring  to 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  73 

the  affair  as  "The  Oregon  Style."  I  refer  to  the  matter 
here  because  of  the  many  distorted  and  unfair  stories  that 
have  appeared  from  time  to  time.  It  is  in  no  spirit  of  bragga- 
docio, but  simply  to  give  the  facts.  That  I  deplored  the 
affair,  and  deeply,  too,  I  freely  confess,  but  only  for  the 
necessity  which  compelled  me  to  defend  my  life. 

On  the  following  February  I  received  an  offer  to  take 
charge  of  the  Salem  Mercury.  Leaders  of  the  party,  among 
them  three  ex-Senators,  the  Governor  of  the  State  and  many 
others  prominent  in  the  affairs  of  Oregon,  purchased  the 
paper  and  plant  and  tendered  me  a  bill  of  sale  for  the  same. 
Ex-Senator  Nesmith,  ex-Senator  Harding,  Governor  Grover, 
ex-Governor  Whitaker,  General  Joseph  Lane  and  many 
others  urged  me  to  the  step.  They  argued  that  I  could  unite 
all  the  factions  of  the  party  in  support  of  a  party  paper  at 
the  capital  of  the  State.  To  a  young  man  scarcely  twenty- 
three  this  was  a  tempting  and  flattering  offer.  I  sold  my 
paper,  therefore,  at  Roseburg  and  with  $4000  in  money 
and  good  paper,  and  a  bill  of  sale  of  an  office  costing 
$2500,  started  to  Salem.  My  success  there  as  a  newspaper 
man  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  A  large  circulation  was 
rapidly  built  up,  and  a  daily  as  well  as  weekly  started. 

In  November  of  the  same  year  occurred  the  first  outbreak 
of  the  Modoc  Indians  and  a  score  of  settlers  and  a  few 
soldiers  had  been  killed.  Governor  Grover  had  ordered 
out  two  companies  of  volunteers  under  General  John  E. 
Ross,  a  veteran  of  the  Rogue  River  war,  to  assist  the  regu- 
lar army  in  quelling  the  insurrection.  The  outbreak,  only 
for  the  butchery  of  the  citizens  along  the  Lost  river  and 
Tule  lake,  was  not  regarded  as  at  all  serious,  as  a  few 
weeks  would  suffice  to  crush  or  destroy  the  savages.  But  as 
weeks  rolled  on  and  still  no  surrender,  nor  even  a  fight, 


74  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

the  Governor  became  uneasy,  since  he  could  not  understand 
the  delay.  Finally,  early  in  January,  Judge  Prim  arrived 
from  Jackson  county  and  had  a  conference  with  the  Gov- 
ernor. It  was  scarcely  9  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Mr. 
Gilfrey,  private  secretary  to  the  Governor,  came  to  my 
office  with  a  message  that  Governor  Grover  wished  to  see 
me  at  his  office  at  once.  When  I  arrived  there  I  found 
the  Governor,  Judge  Prim  and  General  John  F.  Miller  in 
consultation.  The  Governor  explained  to  me  that  there 
were  stories  of  needless  waste  of  time,  that  the  Indians  had 
not  been  attacked,  though  there  were  450  men  within  a 
few  miles  of  their  camp,  that  hints  of  graft  were  afloat. 
Would  I  go  in  company  with  General  Miller  and  when 
could  I  start?  I  replied  that  I  would  go  and  by  the  eleven 
o'clock  train  if  General  Miller  was  ready. 

Perhaps  here  is  a  proper  place  for  a  short  history  of  the 
Modoc  Indians;  their  long  series  of  murders  and  mas- 
sacres— a  series  of  appalling  crimes  that  have  given  to  their 
country  the  name  of  "the  dark  and  bloody  ground  of  the 
Pacific."  Of  all  the  aboriginal  races  of  the  continent  the 
Modocs  stand  pre-eminent  as  the  most  fierce,  remorseless, 
cunning  and  treacherous.  From  the  day  the  white  man  first 
set  foot  upon  his  soil  the  Modoc  has  been  a  merciless  foe 
with  whom  there  could  be  no  peace.  The  travelers  through 
his  country  were  forced  to  battle  for  their  lives  from  the 
day  his  country  was  entered  until  the  boundary  was  passed. 
Trains  of  immigrants,  consisting  of  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren, worn  and  weary  with  the  trials  and  hardships  of  the 
plains,  were  trapped  and  butchered.  The  number  of  these 
victims  mount  up  into  the  hundreds  and  constitute  one  of 
the  saddest  chapters  in  the  annals  of  American  pioneers. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HISTORY  OF  THE  MODOC  INDIANS. 

Voltaire  describes  his  countrymen  as  "half  devil  and  half 
monkey,"  and  this  description  applies  with  equal  force  to 
the  Modoc  tribe  of  Indians.  In  general  appearance  they 
are  far  below  the  tribes  of  the  northern  country.  They  did 
not  possess  the  steady  courage  of  the  Nez  Perces,  nor  the 
wild  dash  of  the  Sioux,  but  in  cunning,  and  savage  ferocity 
they  were  not  excelled  even  by  the  Apaches.  In  war  they 
relied  mainly  on  cunning  and  treachery,  and  the  character 
of  their  country  was  eminently  suited  for  the  display  of 
these  tactics. 

Our  first  knowledge  of  the  Modocs  was  when  they  stole 
upon  the  camp  of  Fremont  in  1 845  at  a  spring  not  far  from 
the  present  site  of  the  now  prosperous  and  thriving  village 
of  Dorris.  It  was  here  that  Fremont  suffered  the  loss  of 
some  of  his  men,  including  two  Delaware  Indians,  in  a 
daylight  attack,  and  it  was  here  that  he  was  overtaken  by  a 
courier  and  turned  back  to  assist  in  the  conquest  of  Cali- 
fornia. From  that  day  to  the  day  when  Ben  Wright,  with 
a  handful  of  Yreka  miners,  broke  their  war  power  in  the 
so-called  "Ben  Wright  massacre"  the  Modocs  were  ever 
the  cruel,  relentless  foe  of  the  white  man,  murdering  and 
pillaging  without  other  pretext  and  without  mercy.  It  has 
been  estimated,  by  those  best  capable  of  giving  an  opinion, 
that  from  first  to  last  not  less  than  three  hundred  men,  women 
and  children  had  been  relentlessly  murdered  by  their  hands, 
up  to  the  beginning  of  the  last  war. 


76          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

The  shores  of  their  beautiful  lakes  and  tributary  streams 
are  scattered  over  with  the  graves  and  bleaching  bones  of 
their  victims.  Even  among  neighboring  tribes  they  were 
known  and  dreaded  for  their  cunning  duplicity  and  savage 
ferocity.  They  are  yet  known  among  the  Klamaths,  Pits, 
and  Piutes  as  a  foe  to  be  dreaded  in  the  days  of  their 
power,  and  these  people  often  speak  of  them  in  fear,  not 
because  they  were  brave  in  open  field,  but  because  of  their 
skulking  and  sudden  attacks  upon  unsuspecting  foes. 

During  the  early  50's  many  immigrants,  bound  for 
Southern  Oregon  and  Northern  California,  passed  through 
their  country,  traveling  the  road  that  passed  round  the  north 
end  of  Rett,  or  Tule  Lake,  and  crossed  Lost  river  at  the 
then  mouth  of  that  stream  on  a  natural  bridge  of  lava.  A 
short  distance  from  where  the  road  comes  down  from  the 
hills  to  the  lake  is  the  ever-memorable  "Bloody  point." 
This  place  has  been  appropriately  named  and  was  the 
scene  of  some  of  the  most  sickening  tragedies  that  blacken 
the  annals  of  this  or  any  other  country.  At  this  point  the 
rim  rock  comes  down  to  the  edge  of  the  waters  of  the  lake, 
and  receding  in  the  form  of  a  half  wheel,  again  approaches 
the  water  at  a  distance  of  several  hundred  yards,  forming  a 
complete  corral.  Secreted  among  the  rocks,  the  Indians 
awaited  until  the  hapless  immigrants  were  well  within  the 
corral,  and  then  poured  a  shower  of  arrows  and  bullets 
among  them.  The  victims,  all  unconscious  of  danger,  taken 
by  surprise,  and  surrounded  on  all  sides,  with  but  the  meager 
shelter  of  their  wagons,  were  at  the  mercy  of  their  savage 
foes. 

In  1 850,  an  immigrant  train  was  caught  in  this  trap,  and 
of  the  eighty  odd  men,  women  and  children,  but  one  escaped 
to  tell  the  awful  tale.  On  the  arrival  of  the  news  at  Jack- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          77 

sonville,  Colonel  John  E.  Ross  raised  a  company  of  volun- 
teers among  the  miners  and  hastened  to  the  scene  of  butchery. 
Arriving  at  Bloody  Point,  the  scene  was  such  as  to  make 
even  that  stern  old  veteran  turn  sick.  The  men  had  died 
fighting,  and  their  naked  bodies  lay  where  they  fell.  Those 
of  the  women  not  killed  during  the  fight  were  reserved 
for  a  fate  ten  thousand  times  worse.  The  mutilated  remains 
scattered  about  the  ground  were  fearfully  swollen  and  dis- 
torted and  partly  devoured  by  wolves  and  vultures.  Little 
children,  innocent  and  tender  babes,  torn  from  their  mothers* 
arms,  had  been  taken  by  the  heels  and  their  brains  dashed 
out  against  the  wagon  wheels,  killed  like  so  many  blind 
puppies.  One  young  woman  had  escaped  out  of  the  corral 
but  had  been  pursued  and  butchered  in  a  most  inhuman 
manner.  Her  throat  was  cut  from  ear  to  ear,  her  breasts 
cut  off,  and  otherwise  mutilated.  Her  body  was  found  a 
mile  and  a  half  from  the  wrecked  and  half-burned  train, 
and  was  discovered  by  her  tracks  and  those  of  her  pursuers. 
Again  in  1 85 1  Captain  John  F.  Miller  raised  a  com- 
pany of  volunteers  at  Jacksonville  and  went  out  to  meet 
and  escort  the  immigrant  trains  through  the  country  of 
the  Modocs.  Arriving  at  Bloody  point  at  daylight  one 
morning  and  finding  a  train  surrounded,  he  at  once  vigor- 
ously attacked  the  savages  and  drove  them  away,  with  the 
loss  of  several  of  their  warriors.  His  timely  arrival  prevented 
a  repetition  of  the  previous  year's  horror.  The  savages  were 
followed  into  the  lava  beds,  but  here  he  was  compelled 
to  give  up  the  pursuit,  as  further  advance  into  this  wilder- 
ness was  to  court  disaster.  The  train  had  been  surrounded 
several  days  and  a  number  of  its  members  killed  and 
wounded.  An  escort  was  sent  with  the  train  beyond  Lost 
river  and  then  returned  to  guard  the  pass  until  all  the 
immigrants  should  have  passed  through. 


78          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

During  Captain  Miller's  stay  here  his  scouts  discovered 
smoke  coming  out  of  the  tules  several  miles  north  and  west 
of  the  peninsula.  Tule  Lake  at  that  time  was  a  mere  tule 
swamp  and  not  the  magnificent  body  of  water  we  see  today. 
Taking  a  number  of  canoes  captured  from  the  Indians  to 
lead  the  way,  and  mounting  his  men  on  their  horses,  the 
spot  was  surrounded  at  daylight  and  a  large  number  of 
women  and  children  captured.  Notwithstanding  many 
were  dressed  in  bloody  garments,  they  were  all  well  treated. 
They  were  held  prisoners  until  the  company  was  ready  to 
leave,  when  they  were  turned  loose. 

Another  company  of  immigrants  was  murdered  on 
Crooked  creek  not  far  from  the  ranch  of  Van  Bremer  Bros, 
on  the  west  and  south  side  of  lower  Klamath  lake.  Who 
they  were,  where  they  came  from,  how  many  in  the  train, 
will  ever  remain  an  impenetrable  mystery.  Waiting  friends 
"back  in  the  States"  have  probably  waited  long  for  some 
tidings  of  them,  but  tidings,  alas,  that  never  came.  We 
only  know  that  the  ill-fated  train  was  destroyed,  the  members 
murdered  and  their  wagons  burned.  Scarface  Charley  told 
John  Fairchilds  that  when  he  was  a  little  boy  the  Indians 
killed  a  great  many  white  people  at  this  point.  The  charred 
remains  of  the  wagons  and  mouldering  bones  of  the  owners 
were  yet  visible  when  I  visited  the  spot  during  the  Modoc 
war.  Charley  said  that  two  white  girls  were  held  captives 
and  that  one  morning  while  encamped  at  Hot  creek  the 
Indians  got  into  a  dispute  over  the  ownership  of  one  of 
them  and  to  end  matters  the  chief  caught  her  by  the  hair 
and  cut  her  throat.  Her  body,  Charley  said,  was  thrown 
into  the  rim  rock  above  the  Dorris  house.  Hearing  the 
story  in  February,  1 873,  while  we  were  encamped  at  Van 
Bremer's  ranch,  Colonel  C.  B.  Bellinger  and  I  made  a 


REMINISCENCESIOF  A  PIONEER          79 

search  for  the  body  of  the  ill-fated  girl.  We  found  the 
skull  and  some  bones  but  nothing  more.  Enough,  however, 
to  verify  the  story  told  by  Charley.  What  became  of  the 
other  Charley  did  not  know,  but  her  fate  can  better  be 
imagined  than  described. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  BEN  WRIGHT  MASSACRE. 

This  so-called  massacre  has  been  the  source  of  endless 
controversy,  and  during  the  progress  of  the  Modoc  war 
afforded  Eastern  sentimentalists  grounds  for  shedding  croco- 
dile tears  in  profusion.  They  found  in  this  story  ample 
grounds  for  justification  of  the  foul  butchery  of  General 
Canby  and  the  Peace  Commission.  According  to  their 
view,  these  "poor  persecuted  people"  were  merely  paying 
the  white  man  back  in  his  own  coin,  and  a  lot  more  such  rot 

According  to  this  story,  Ben  Wright  had  proposed  a 
treaty  and  while  the  Indians  were  feasting,  all  unconscious 
of  intended  harm,  were  set  upon  and  ninety  of  their  warriors 
murdered  in  cold  blood.  Captain  Jack's  father,  they  said, 
was  among  the  victims,  and  it  was  to  avenge  this  wrong  that 
Canby  and  the  Peace  Commission  were  murdered  under  a 
flag  of  truce.  The  story  was  without  other  foundation  than 
the  bloody  battle  fought  by  Ben  Wright  and  his  Yreka 
volunteers  with  the  Modoc  tribe  during  the  fall  of  1 852. 
I  will  here  give  the  true  story  as  detailed  to  me  by  Frank 
Riddle,  one  of  Ben  Wright's  men,  and  which  I  believe  is 
absolutely  true. 

In  the  fall  of  1852  Ben  Wright  raised  a  company  of 
thirty-six  men  around  Yreka  and  went  out  to  guard  the 
immigrants  through  the  country  of  the  Modocs.  The  com- 
pany arrived  in  time  and  safely  escorted  all  trains  past  the 
danger  point.  The  lesson  taught  the  year  before  by  Captain 
Miller  had  instilled  into  the  savage  heart  a  wholesome  fear 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          81 

of  the  white  man's  rifle  and  revolver.  They  dared  not 
attack  the  ever-watchful  white  men  openly,  but  determined 
to  effect  by  strategy  what  they  dared  not  attempt  in  the 
open  field.  Accordingly  they  sent  a  messenger  to  Wright 
proposing  a  treaty.  The  messenger,  among  other  things, 
told  Wright  that  they  held  two  captive  white  girls,  which 
they  wished  to  surrender  as  an  evidence  of  good  faith.  Ben 
Wright  was  anxious  to  rescue  the  girls  and  readily  consented 
to  a  treaty,  and  promised  to  kill  a  beef  and  have  a  feast. 
The  Indians  in  considerable  numbers  came  to  the  camp, 
headed  by  the  chief.  Wright  was  then  camped  on  the 
peninsula,  a  place  admirably  adapted  to  guard  against  sur- 
prise. A  feast  was  had  and  all  went  well.  The  white 
girls  were  to  be  surrendered  three  days  later  at  the  mouth 
of  Lost  river,  to  which  place  the  white  men  moved,  followed 
by  the  Indians.  The  latter  were  very  friendly  and  exerted 
themselves  to  win  the  confidence  of  the  white  men.  Three 
days  passed  but  no  white  girls  showed  up.  The  chief 
assured  Wright  that  they  were  coming,  that  they  were  a 
long  way  off  and  would  be  on  hand  two  days  later.  In  the 
meantime  the  watchful  white  men  observed  that  the  numbers 
of  the  Indians  had  more  than  doubled  and  more  and  more 
were  coming  with  each  succeeding  day.  They  became 
suspicious  and  their  suspicions  ripened  into  a  certainty 
that  treachery  was  meditated.  At  the  expiration  of  the 
two  days  Ben  Wright  informed  his  men  of  his  plans. 
He  was  satisfied  that  the  girls  would  never  be  surrendered, 
but  that  the  Indians,  now  outnumbering  them  five  to  one, 
intended  a  massacre.  Accordingly  he  told  his  men  to  quietly 
make  ready ;  that  he  was  going  to  the  chief  and  if  he  refused 
to  surrender  the  girls  he  would  kill  him  then  and  there.  He 
warned  his  men  to  pay  no  attention  to  him,  that  he  would 


82  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

make  his  way  out  as  best  he  could ;  that  they  must  open  fire 
at  the  instant  his  pistol  rang  out;  that  they  were  in  a  des- 
perate situation  and  must  resort  to  desperate  measures  or  all 
would  be  butchered  then  and  there. 

The  morning  was  cool,  Riddle  said,  and  Ben  Wright 
covered  himself  with  a  blanket,  his  head  passing  through 
a  hole  in  the  middle,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  time,  the 
blanket  answering  the  place  of  an  overcoat.  Underneath 
the  blanket  he  carried  a  revolver  in  each  hand.  He  went 
directly  to  the  chief  and  demanded  that  he  make  his  promises 
good.  The  chief  told  him  plainly,  insolently,  that  he  would 
not  do  so,  and  never  intended  to  do  so;  that  he  had  men 
enough  to  kill  the  white  men  and  that  they  were  now  in  his 
power.  But  the  wily  old  chief  little  dreamed  of  the  des- 
perate valor  of  the  man  before  him,  for  no  sooner  had  the 
chief's  defy  passed  his  lips  than  Ben  Wright  shot  him  dead. 
Then  firing  right  and  left  as  he  ran,  he  made  his  escape 
out  of  the  Indian  camp.  Meanwhile,  as  the  first  shot  rang 
out  from  Wright's  pistol  his  men  opened  a  deadly  fire  with 
their  rifles.  For  an  instant.  Riddle  said,  the  savages  formed 
a  line  and  sent  a  shower  of  arrows  over  their  heads,  but 
they  aimed  too  high  and  only  one  or  two  were  slightly 
wounded.  Dropping  their  rifles,  Wright's  men  charged, 
revolvers  in  hand.  This  was  too  much  for  savage  valor  and 
what  were  left  fled  in  terror.  It  was  now  no  longer  a  battle. 
The  savages  were  searched  out  from  among  the  sage  brush 
and  shot  like  rabbits.  Long  poles  were  taken  from  the 
wickiups  and  those  taking  refuge  in  the  river  were  poked  out 
and  shot  as  they  struggled  in  the  water.  To  avoid  the 
bullets  the  Indians  would  dive  and  swim  beneath  the  water, 
but  watching  the  bubbles  rise  as  they  swam,  the  men  shot 
them  when  they  came  up  for  air. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  83 

This  is  the  true  story  of  the  "Ben  Wright  Massacre." 
It  was  a  massacre  all  right,  but  did  not  terminate  as  the 
Indians  intended.  Riddle  told  me  that  about  ninety  Indians 
were  killed  in  this  fight.  It  broke  the  war  power  of  the 
Modoc  Indians  as  a  tribe  for  all  time,  and  from  that  day 
the  white  man  could  pass  unvexed  through  the  country  of 
the  Modocs.  There  were  probably  isolated  cases  of  murder, 
but  nothing  approaching  war  ever  again  existed  in  the  minds 
of  the  Modocs. 


CHAPTER  X. 

TREATY  WITH  THE  MODOCS  IS  MADE. 

On  the  1 4th  day  of  October,  1 864,  the  Modocs  entered 
into  a  treaty  with  the  Federal  government  by  which  they 
ceded  all  rights  to  the  Lost  river  and  Tule  lake  country  for 
a  consideration  of  $320,000.  In  addition  to  this  they  were 
to  receive  a  body  of  land  on  the  Klamath  reservation  of 
768,000  acres,  or  a  little  more  than  420  acres  for  each 
man,  woman  and  child.  Immediately  after  the  ratification 
of  the  treaty  all  the  Modoc  Indians  moved  to  the  lands 
allotted  to  them,  where  the  tribe  remained,  and  yet  remains. 
This  may  be  news  to  most  of  my  readers,  but  it  is  a  fact 
that  the  Modoc  Indians  as  a  tribe  continued  to  keep  faith 
with  the  government.  The  band  under  Captain  Jack  were 
merely  renegades  who,  dissatisfied  with  their  new  home,  left 
the  reservation  and  went  back  to  Lost  river  and  Tule  Lake. 
Jack  himself  was  wanted  for  murder,  and  sought  an  asylum 
in  the  lava  beds,  or  the  country  adjacent  thereto,  where  he 
gathered  around  him  renegades  from  other  tribes — rene- 
gades outlawed  by  Indians  and  whites  alike.  Some  of  the 
Indians  in  Jack's  band  were  from  the  Columbia  river  region, 
others  from  coast  tribes,  and  all  were  outlaws.  One  of  the 
leaders,  Bogus  Charley,  was  an  Umpqua  Indian  and  was 
raised  by  a  white  man  named  Bill  Phips.  He  spoke  good 
English  and  asked  me  about  many  of  the  old  timers. 

In  securing  his  ascendency  over  this  band  of  outlaws 
Jack  was  assisted  by  his  sister,  "Queen  Mary,"  so-called, 
who  lived  many  years  with  a  white  man  near  Yreka.  In 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          85 

the  opinion  of  Captain  I.  D.  Applegate,  Mary  was  the 
brains  of  the  murderous  crew  who  gathered  in  the  "hole 
in  the  wall,"  under  her  brother.  She  was  the  go-between 
for  the  Indians  with  the  whites  about  Yreka,  where  they 
did  their  trading  and  where  they  supplied  themselves  with 
arms  and  ammunition,  and  it  was'  through  her  that 
Judge  Steele,  a  lawyer  of  Yreka,  was  interested 
in  getting  a  reservation  for  them.  Steele  made  a  trip  to 
Washington  to  plead  their  cause,  and  received  a  fee  of 
$1000.  He  failed,  but  held  out  hope  to  his  clients  and 
urged  them  under  no  circumstances  to  go  back  to  their  lands 
at  Klamath,  advising  them  as  counsel  to  take  up  lands  in 
severally  under  the  pre-emption  laws  of  the  United  States. 
It  is  charitable  to  suppose  that  Judge  Steele  did  not  foresee 
the  disastrous  consequences  of  his  counsel,  yet  he  knew  that 
Jack  was  wanted  at  the  Klamath  agency  for  murder.  In 
furtherance  of  his  advice  he  wrote  the  following  self- 
explanatory  letter  to  Henry  Miller,  afterwards  murdered 
in  a  most  barbarous  manner  by  the  very  men  whom  he  had 
befriended : 

Yreka,  Sept.    19.   1872. 

Mr.  Henry  F.  Miller — Dear  Sir:  You  will  have  to 
give  me  a  description  of  the  lands  the  Indians  want.  If  it 
has  been  surveyed,  give  me  the  township,  range,  section  and 
quarter-section.  If  not,  give  me  a  rude  plat  of  it  by  repre- 
senting the  line  of  the  lake  and  the  line  of  the  river,  so  that 
I  can  describe  it  ...  Mr.  Warmmer,  the  County 
Surveyor,  will  not  go  out  there,  so  I  will  have  to  send  to 
Sacramento  to  get  one  appointed.  Send  an  answer  by  an 
Indian,  so  that  I  can  make  out  their  papers  soon.  I  did 
not  have  them  pay  taxes  yet,  as  I  did  not  know  whether  the 
land  is  surveyed  and  open  for  pre-emption. 

Respectfully  yours, 

E.   STEELE. 


86          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Other  letters  were  written  by  Judge  Steele  to  the  Indians. 
One  which  was  taken  to  Mrs.  Body  to  read  for  them 
advised  them  not  to  go  to  Klamath,  but  to  "remain  on  their 
Yreka  farm,"  as  he  termed  the  Tule  Lake  and  Lost  river 
country,  and  told  them  they  had  as  good  a  right  to  the 
lands  as  any  one.  He  further  told  them  to  go  to  the  settlers 
and  compel  them  to  give  them  written  certificates  of  good 
character  to  show  to  the  agents  of  the  government,  which 
they  did,  the  settlers  fearing  to  refuse.  Shortly  after  this, 
Mr.  T.  B.  Odeneal,  Superintendent  of  Indian  Affairs, 
attempted  to  have  a  conference  with  Jack,  who  flatly  refused, 
saying  he  was  tired  of  talking;  he  wanted  no  white  man 
to  tell  him  what  to  do;  that  his  friends  and  counselors  at 
Yreka  had  told  them  to  stay  where  they  were. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  settlers  became  alarmed 
and  made  the  Superintendent  promise  that  they  should  be 
notified  before  any  attempt  to  use  force  was  made.  How 
that  promise  was  carried  out  will  appear  later  on.  Early 
in  November,  after  repeated  attempts  to  induce  the  Indians 
under  Jack  to  go  peaceably  back  to  the  reservation,  Super- 
intendent Odeneal  determined  to  turn  the  matter  over  to 
the  military.  The  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  directed 
him  to  put  the  Indians  back,  peaceably  if  he  could,  by  force 
if  he  must.  He  then  referred  the  whole  matter  to  Major 
Jackson,  then  in  command  at  Fort  Klamath,  who  had  at  his 
disposal  thirty-six  men  of  Company  B,  First  cavalry,  and 
proceeded  with  his  command  to  Linkville,  where  he  was  met 
by  Captain  I.  D.  Applegate,  at  that  time  connected  with 
the  Indian  department  and  stationed  at  the  Yainax  reserva- 
tion. Captain  Jackson  was  warned  by  Applegate  of  the 
desperate  character  of  the  Indians,  but  informed  him  the 
force  was  sufficient  in  his  opinion  if  proper  precautions  were 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          87 

taken.  In  the  meantime  Mr.  Odeneal  had  sent  his  messen- 
ger, O.  A.  Brown,  to  notify  the  settlers.  Instead  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Bybee  ranch,  carefully  concealing  from  all 
the  proposed  movements  of  the  troops  under  Jackson. 
Afterwards  when  reproached  by  Mrs.  Schira,  whose  hus- 
band, father  and  brothers  had  been  murdered,  he  gave  the 
heartless  answer  that  he  "was  not  paid  to  run  after  the 
settlers."  After  realizing  the  full  extent  of  his  conduct — 
conduct  that  could  not  be  defended  any  other  way — Brown 
attempted  to  cast  the  odium  upon  his  superior,  Mr.  Odeneal. 
However,  the  latter  had  a  copy  of  his  letter  of  instructions, 
hence  Brown  lapsed  into  sullen  silence. 

Major  Jackson  started  for  the  Indian  encampment  on  Lost 
river  on  the  28th  of  November,  leaving  Lankville,  now 
Klamath  Falls,  after  dark.  He  was  accompanied  by  Cap- 
tain Applegate,  and  he  had  supplied  his  men  with  twenty 
rounds  of  ammunition.  Before  reaching  the  encampment 
he  halted  his  men,  saddle  girths  were  tightened,  overcoats 
tied  behind  saddles  and  carbines  loaded.  It  was  then 
nearly  daylight  and  proceeding  with  caution  he  reached  the 
encampment  just  at  daylight.  It  was  understood  that  the 
command  was  to  be  divided  so  as  to  strike  the  camp  on  two 
sides,  thus  commanding  the  river  bank  and  the  brush  back 
of  the  camp  at  one  and  the  same  time.  Instead  of  this, 
Captain  Jackson  galloped  his  troop  in  between  the  river 
and  the  camp  and  dismounted,  his  men  forming  a  line  with 
horses  in  the  rear. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  another  force,  consisting  of 
a  dozen  settlers,  had  come  down  from  the  Bybee  ranch  to 
capture  the  Hot  Creek  band  on  the  oposite  side  of  the  river 
from  Jack's  camp.  O.  A.  Brown  had  arrived  there  in  the 
evening  but  said  nothing  to  any  one  until  2  o'clock  in  the 


88  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

morning,  when  he  roused  them  up  and  told  them  that  the 
soldiers  would  attack  the  Indians  at  daylight.  They  arrived 
just  as  Jackson  lined  his  men  up  on  the  opposite  side.  Jud 
Small,  a  stock  man,  was  riding  a  young  horse  and  at  the 
crack  of  the  first  gun  his  horse  began  bucking.  Everything 
was  confusion,  the  men  retreating  to  a  small  cabin  a  hundred 
yards  away,  except  Small,  who  was  holding  on  to  his  horse 
for  dear  life  all  this  time.  Over  wickiups,  squaws,  bucks 
and  children  the  frightened  beast  leaped.  Just  how  he  got 
out  safe  among  his  companions  Small  never  knew,  but  he 
escaped,  only  to  be  desperately  wounded  in  the  first  fight  in 
the  lava  beds,  and  later  finding  a  watery  grave  in  Klamath 
river  while  sailing  a  pleasure  boat. 

After  dismounting  his  men,  Major  Jackson  requested 
Captain  Applegate  to  go  forward  among  the  Indians  and 
tell  them  they  must  surrender  and  go  back  to  the  reservation. 
But  scarcely  had  Captain  Applegate  reached  the  center  of 
the  village,  when  he  saw  the  women  running  and  throwing 
themselves  face  downward  in  a  low  place  between  the  two 
lines.  He  at  once  called  to  Lieutenant  Boutelle  to  "look 
out,  they  are  going  to  fire."  Scarcely  had  the  words 
escaped  his  lips  when  the  Indians,  concealed  under  their 
wickiups,  opened  a  galling  fire  on  the  line  of  troops.  Apple- 
gate  made  his  way  back  to  the  line  as  best  he  could  and 
as  he  reached  the  line  he  picked  up  a  carbine  that  had 
fallen  from  the  hand  of  a  wounded  soldier.  The  poor 
fellow  had  just  strength  enough  to  unbuckle  his  belt  and 
hand  it  to  Captain  Applegate,  who  now  called  to  Lieutenant 
Boutelle  that  "if  we  don't  drive  them  out  of  their  camp  they 
will  kill  us  all."  Boutelle  then  ordered  a  charge,  and  drove 
the  Indians  out  of  their  camp,  through  the  brush  and  out 
into  the  open  hills  beyond.  But  this  was  accomplished  by 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          89 

the  loss  of  several  men  killed  and  wounded.  One  Indian 
had  been  killed,  a  Columbia,  one  of  the  most  desperate  of 
the  renegade  band.  When  Applegate  got  back  to  where 
Jackson  was  standing  he  had  all  the  women  and  children 
gathered  around  him  and  while  several  men  had  been  killed 
or  wounded,  he  deemed  the  trouble  at  an  end. 

While  the  above  events  were  transpiring,  Dave  Hill,  a 
Klamath  Indian,  swam  the  river  and  drove  in  all  the 
Modocs'  horses.  With  the  women,  children  and  horses  in 
their  possession  all  that  remained  for  Captain  Jackson  to  do 
to  insure  the  surrender  of  the  men,  was  to  take  them  to  the 
reservation  and  hold  them.  What  was  the  surprise  of 
Captain  Applegate,  therefore,  when  Jackson  announced  his 
intention  of  turning  them  all  loose.  In  vain  he  and  Dave 
Hill  protested,  but  to  no  purpose.  Jackson  declared  he 
was  short  of  ammunition ;  besides,  must  care  for  his  wounded 
men.  He  then  told  the  squaws  to  pack  up  their  horses  and 
go  to  the  men  and  tell  them  to  come  to  the  reservation.  No 
more  mad,  idiotic  piece  of  folly  was  ever  perpetrated  by  a 
man  than  this  move  of  Captain  Jackson. 

While  they  were  talking  two  travelers  were  seen  riding 
along  the  road  some  hundreds  of  yards  away.  In  vain  the 
men  on  both  sides  of  the  river  attempted  to  warn  them  of 
danger.  The  Indians  were  seen  to  ride  up  to  them  and 
deliberately  shoot  them  down.  This  of  itself  should  have 
warned  Jackson  of  the  desperate  character  of  the  outlaws. 
But  no,  he  was  either  too  cowardly  to  act  intelligently  or  too 
indifferent  of  the  consequences  to  act  as  he  was  advised. 
In  fact,  there  is  a  certain  class  of  army  officers  who  deem  it 
a  disgrace  to  accept  advice  from  a  civilian.  At  any  rate 
he  crossed  his  wounded  men  over  the  river  in  canoes  to  the 
cabin  held  by  the  party  of  stock  men,  and  mounting  his 


90          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

men  went  six  miles  up  the  river  to  the  ford  and  put  the 
river  between  himself  and  command  and  danger. 

As  soon  as  the  squaws  and  children  reached  the  men,  a 
party  headed  by  "Black  Jim"  mounted  and  started  down 
the  shores  of  the  lake  butchering  the  settlers.  They  came 
first  to  the  Body  ranch,  where  the  men  were  getting  wood 
from  the  hills  and  heartlessly  butchered  them  in  cold  blood. 
The  manner  is  best  told  in  Mrs.  Body's  own  words  in  a 
letter  to  me  in  which  she  says: 

"I  reside  three  miles  from  the  Indian  camp  on  Lost  river. 
The  Indians  had  told  us  time  and  again  that  if  the  soldiers 
came  to  put  them  on  the  reservation  they  would  kill  every 
white  settler.  Through  hearing  of  these  threats,  we 
requested  the  messengers  never  to  come  with  soldiers  without 
first  giving  the  settlers  warning.  This  they  failed  to  do. 
The  male  portion  of  my  family,  not  being  aware 
of  any  disturbance,  were  out  procuring  firewood,  and  were 
suddenly  attacked  within  a  mile  and  a  half  of  the  house 
and  butchered  in  cold  blood.  About  a  quarter  to  twelve  my 
daughter  saw  her  husband's  team  approaching  the  house  at 
a  rapid  gait,  and  as  the  team  reached  the  house  she  noticed 
that  the  wagon  was  covered  with  blood.  Thinking  the  team 
had  run  away  she  ran  up  the  road  to  find  him.  About  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house  she  discovered  him.  I 
hastened  after  her  with  water,  and  as  I  arrived  at  the  spot 
my  daughter  was  stooping  over  the  body  of  her  husband. 
Six  Indians  then  dashed  out  of  the  brush  on  horseback. 
Two  of  them  rode  up  to  me  and  asked  if  there  were  any 
white  men  at  the  house.  Not  dreaming  that  there  was  any- 
thing wrong  with  the  Indians,  I  told  them  that  the  team  had 
run  away  and  killed  white  man.  They  then  gave  a  war- 
whoop  and  rode  off  towards  the  house.  On  examining  my 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          91 

son-in-law,  we  found  that  he  had  been  shot  through  the 
head.  We  then  knew  that  the  redskins  were  on  the  war- 
path, and  determined  to  find  the  other  men.  Going  a  short 
distance  we  found  my  eldest  son  killed  and  stripped  naked. 
The  four  horses  were  gone.  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
further  on  we  saw  more  Indians  in  the  timber  where  my 
husband  was  chopping  wood,  so  we  concluded  we  had 
better  not  go  any  further  in  that  direction,  and  made  our 
way  to  the  hills.  My  youngest  son,  a  boy  of  thirteen  years 
of  age,  was  herding  sheep  about  a  mile  from  the  house  when 
he  was  killed.  They  shot  him  and  then  cut  his  throat.  We 
continued  to  travel  until  it  became  too  dark  to  discern  our 
way,  and  then  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  a  tree  and  stayed  until 
daylight.  We  then  started  again,  not  knowing  where  we 
were  going,  but  hoping  to  strike  some  house.  There  was 
two  feet  of  snow  on  the  ground  and  our  progress  was  slow 
and  tedious.  Finally  we  arrived  at  Lost  river  bridge  about 
2  o'clock  Saturday  afternoon.  Here  we  learned  for  the 
first  time  that  there  had  been  a  fight  between  the  soldiers 
and  Indians.  If  the  settlers  had  been  warned  in  time  not 
one  white  person  would  have  been  killed,  as  we  all  had 
arms  and  ammunition  sufficient  to  defend  themselves  success- 
fully." 

The  Brotherton  family  was  not  killed  until  the  next  day. 
They  lived  eight  miles  south  of  the  Bodys,  and  like  the 
latter  were  attending  to  their  duties  about  the  ranch.  A 
twelve-year-old  boy,  Charley  Brotherton,  while  the  Indians 
were  killing  the  hired  man,  cut  one  of  the  horses  loose  from 
the  wagon  and  escaped  to  the  house,  where  he  built  a  pen  of 
sacks  of  flour  in  the  center  of  the  floor  to  protect  his  mother 
and  the  little  children  and  with  a  rifle  held  the  savages  at 
bay  for  three  days,  or  until  relieved  by  volunteers.  The 


92          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

house,  a  two-story  box  affair,  was  literally  riddled  with 
bullets  and  how  the  boy  escaped  being  shot  is  a  mystery. 
The  other  settlers,  seventeen  in  all,  were  similarly  murdered. 
Henry  Miller,  who  had  befriended  the  Indians,  was  mur- 
dered under  conditions  of  peculiar  atrocity,  for  the  reason,  it 
was  supposed,  that  he  had  failed  to  notify  the  Indians  of 
the  movements  of  the  soldiers  as  he  had  promised. 

During  all  these  three  days  of  murder  and  horror,  Captain 
Jackson  made  no  attempt  to  protect  the  settlers,  but  remained 
forted  up  at  the  cabin  on  Lost  river.  As  soon  as  the  news 
reached  Linkville,  now  Klamath  Falls,  Captain  O.  C. 
Applegate  organized  a  company  of  settlers  and  friendly 
Indians  to  protect  what  was  left  of  the  settlement.  Captain 
Ivan  D.  Applegate  also  exerted  himself  in  saving  the  set- 
tlers, and  did  brave  work,  but  there  were  women  and  chil- 
dren to  protect  and  days  elapsed  before  an  effective  force 
could  be  gathered  to  meet  the  Indians.  Meantime  news 
had  reached  Jackson  county  and  Captain  Kelley  hastily 
organized  a  force  of  a  hundred  men  and  by  riding  night  and 
day  reached  the  scene  of  the  massacre.  It  was  his  company 
that  relieved  the  besieged  Brothertons,  defended  by  the 
brave  boy. 

In  the  meantime  the  Indians  had  retreated  to  the  lava 
beds  and  bade  defiance  to  the  soldiers.  General  Wheaton, 
commanding  the  district  of  the  Lakes,  ordered  the  concen- 
tration of  troops  from  Camps  Warner  and  Bidwell,  while 
General  Canby  sent  the  forces  under  Colonel  John  Green 
and  Major  Mason  from  Ft.  Vancouver  to  join  the  command 
under  General  Wheaton.  As  soon  as  the  settlers  could  fort 
up  for  mutual  protection,  the  entire  forces  of  regulars  and 
volunteers  were  concentrated  at  Van  Bremer's  ranch  west 
of  the  lava  beds  under  General  Wheaton  and  at  Land's 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  93 

ranch  on  the  east  side  of  Tule  Lake  and  directly  north 
of  the  stronghold.  Such  was  the  disposition  of  the  forces 
when  I  arrived  at  headquarters  at  Van  Bremer's  ranch.  By 
orders  of  Governor  Grover  of  Oregon  the  volunteers  under 
Captains  O.  C.  Applegate  and  Kelley  were  placed  under 
the  command  of  General  Wheaton.  The  two  companies 
numbered  about  225  men,  and  were  commanded  by  General 
John  E.  Ross,  a  veteran  Indian  fighter,  but  too  old  to  with- 
stand the  hardships  of  a  winter  campaign  against  Indians. 
The  men  were  all  poorly  provided  with  clothing  and  bed- 
ding, most  all  having  taken  only  what  they  could  strap 
behind  their  saddles,  but  in  spite  of  this  and  a  temperature 
often  below  zero,  no  murmur  was  heard,  and  all  anxiously, 
eagerly  looked  forward  to  a  meeting  with  the  brutal  savage 
murderers  of  their  fellow  citizens.  Such  were  the  condi- 
tions when  I  arrived  at  headquarters. 


CHAPTER  XL 

BATTLE  IN  THE  LAVA  BEDS. 

On  Sunday,  January  12,  1873,  a  strong  reconnoi taring 
force  was  sent  out  under  Colonel  Perry  of  the  regulars 
and  Captain  O.  C.  Applegate  of  the  volunteers.  On  the 
bluff  overlooking  the  lava  beds  they  found  the  Indians  and 
found  them  full  of  fight.  A  picket  was  surprised  and  a  gun 
captured,  but  they  were  unable  to  say  whether  any  of  them 
had  been  wounded  in  the  skirmish.  The  Indians,  however, 
came  out  in  force  and  a  brisk  skirmish  was  kept  up  for 
some  time  when  the  troops,  having  accomplished  the  object 
of  their  mission,  retired. 

All  the  reinforcements  having  now  arrived  it  was  deter- 
mined to  attack  the  savages  on  the  following  Friday.  The 
plans  of  General  Wheaton  were  submitted  to  the  volunteer 
officers  and  fully  approved.  General  Frank  Wheaton  was 
an  officer  of  experience  and  unquestioned  ability.  He  was 
a  veteran  of  the  Civil  war,  and  commanded  20,000  troops 
at  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness,  besides  having  the  confidence 
and  esteem  of  officers  and  men.  Every  contingency  was 
guarded  against,  at  least  as  far  as  it  was  possible  to  foresee 
it  The  troops  organized  for  the  attack  were  Bernard's 
and  Perry's  troops  of  cavalry,  and  Green's  and  Mason's 
infantry,  numbering  250  men;  Captain  Applegate's  and 
Captain  Kelley's  volunteers,  numbering  225  men,  Donald 
McKay's  Indian  scouts  numbering  fifty  and  the  California 
volunteers  under  John  Fairchilds  and  Presley  Dorris. 

By  general  field  order,  Bernard  was  to  move  down  from 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          95 

Land's  ranch  on  Wednesday,  January  1  6th,  and  occupy  a 
position  not  less  than  two  miles  from  the  stronghold.  At  the 
same  time  Colonel  Perry  was  to  push  across  the  trail  to  the 
bluff  with  his  dismounted  troop,  while  General  Wheaton 
with  the  infantry  and  volunteers,  ambulances,  three 
howitzers,  reserve  ammunition,  etc.,  was  to  go  around  by 
Little  Klamath  Lake  and  join  the  command  of  Colonel 
Perry  under  cover  of  darkness.  This  was  regarded  advis- 
able as  it  was  feared  that  the  Indians,  discovering  our  num- 
bers, would  leave  the  lava  beds  and  scatter.  Every  soldier 
and  volunteer  had  been  ordered  to  prepare  four  days'  rations, 
cooked.  There  was  no  question  in  our  minds  as  to  whip- 
ping the  Indians,  but  we  wanted  to  surround  and  capture 
them. 

On  the  morning  of  the  1 6th  all  was  astir  and  as  day 
began  to  break  the  troops  were  all  drawn  up  in  line.  I  had 
determined  to  cross  the  trail  with  Perry  and  was  sitting  on 
my  horse  when  I  heard  a  man  hallo  "O,"  and  as  I  turned 
my  head  heard  the  report  of  his  gun.  The  fellow,  a  recruit 
in  Mason's  battalion  of  regulars,  had  deliverately  shot  off 
his  great  toe  to  keep  from  going  into  the  fight.  He  pulled 
the  trigger  of  his  gun  and  halloed,  before  the  gun  was 
discharged.  I  mention  this  to  show  the  difference  in  men. 
Here  was  a  poor  weak  devil  who  would  rather  maim  himself 
for  life  than  to  face  danger  where  he  might  be  killed,  but  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  nine-tenths  of  the  rest  would  have  gone 
even  after  the  loss  of  the  toe. 

We  arrived  in  sight  of  the  rim  of  the  bluff  about  2 
o'clock  and  saw  the  Indian  pickets.  Colonel  Perry  threw 
out  a  skirmish  line  and  the  advance  was  ordered.  Before 
getting  within  rifle  range  the  pickets  disappeared  and  we 
took  possession.  I  now  got  my  first  view  of  the  lava  beds, 


96  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

as  they  stretched  black  and  forbidding  nearly  a  thousand 
feet  below.  A  fog  rested  over  the  lake,  but  we  could  soon 
see  through  the  rifts  along  the  lake  shore  the  Indians  on 
horseback  coming  out  to  attack  us.  They  appeared  like 
phantom  horsemen,  and  our  Indian  guide  told  us  they  were 
coming  out  to  attack  us,  as  there  were  "only  a  few  and  they 
are  afoot."  A  few  had  reached  the  bluff  and  had  begun  a 
scattering  fire,  when  we  heard  several  shots  that  appeared 
to  come  directly  from  the  stronghold.  The  Indian  guide 
told  us  he  thought  they  were  killing  some  Indians  that  did 
not  want  to  fight.  As  he  had  relatives  among  them  the 
poor  fellow  showed  the  distress  he  felt.  A  few  minutes 
later  we  heard  several  more  shots,  and  I  told  Colonel  Perry 
I  heard  Bernard's  bugle.  A  few  minutes  later  the  clear 
notes  of  the  bugle  rang  out  clear  and  distinct,  though  it  was 
fully  five  miles  away.  Yet  in  that  clear,  cold,  dry  atmos- 
phere every  note  sounded  as  clear  and  distinct  as  though  but 
a  mile  away.  Bernard's  column  had  followed  the  lake,  and 
under  cover  of  the  fog  enveloping  the  shore,  had  approached 
much  nearer  than  his  orders  contemplated.  He  was  at  once 
savagely  attacked  and  all  evening  the  rattle  of  the  guns 
sounded  like  many  bunches  of  fire  crackers.  Repeatedly  we 
heard  him  sound  the  charge  and  we  all  fretted  that  we 
could  not  descend  and  join  in  the  battle.  Perry's  men  were 
desperately  afraid  that  "the  Apache  boys,"  as  Bernard's 
men  were  called,  would  clean  out  the  Indians  and  leave  them 
nothing  to  do  on  the  morrow.  But  our  orders  forbade  and 
we  contented  ourselves  with  listening  to  the  fight  from  a  dis- 
tance without  being  able  to  take  a  hand.  Toward  night 
the  fog  cleared  away  and  we  had  an  unobstructed  view  of 
the  stronghold. 

I  have  often  been  asked  to  describe  the  lava  beds.     That 


CAPTAIN  JACK  OF  THE  MODOCS 
From  a  photo  belonging  to  Jas.  D.  Fairchild,  Yreka,  Cal. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          97 

is  beyond  the  power  of  language.  In  a  letter  to  the  Army 
and  Navy  Journal,  written  at  the  suggestion  of  General 
Wheaton,  I  compared  the  Indians  in  the  lava  beds  to  "ants 
in  a  sponge."  In  the  language  of  another  it  is  a  "black 
ocean  tumbled  into  a  thousand  fantastic  shapes,  a  wild  chaos 
of  ruin,  desolation,  barrenness — a  wilderness  of  billowy  up- 
heavals, of  furious  whirlpools,  of  miniature  mountains  rent 
asunder,  of  gnarled  and  knotted,  wrinkled  and  twisted 
masses  of  blackness,  and  all  these  weird  shapes,  all  this 
turbulent  panorama,  all  this  far-stretching  waste  of  black- 
ness, with  its  thrilling  suggestiveness  of  life,  of  action,  of 
boiling,  surging,  furious  motion  was  petrified — all  stricken 
dead  and  cold  in  the  instant  of  its  maddest  rioting — fettered, 
paralyzed  and  left  to  glower  at  heaven  in  impotent  rage  for 
evermore." 

Towards  night  the  rattle  of  the  guns  gradually  died  away 
and  the  yell  of  the  savages  was  hushed  for  the  day.  Leaving 
a  strong  guard  on  the  bluff  we  joined  General  Wheaton  a 
few  hundred  yards  in  the  rear,  anxiously  awaited  the  coming 
of  another  day,  little  dreaming  what  that  day  was  to  bring 
forth.  There  was  little  sleep  that  night.  The  frozen 
ground  with  a  pair  of  blankets  is  not  a  bed  of  roses,  and  is 
little  conducive  to  sleep  and  rest.  Most  of  the  night  was 
spent  around  the  fires  until  2  o'clock  when  all  were  ordered  to 
"fall  in."  The  order  of  march  and  battle  was  as  follows: 
The  command  of  Fairchilds  and  Dorris  occupied  the  ex- 
treme left  along  the  lake  shore;  Mason's  infantry  battalion, 
with  mountain  howitzers  packed,  joined  Fairchild's  right; 
Captain  Kelley's  command  occupied  the  center  with  his  left 
resting  on  Mason's  right;  Captain  Applegate  connected  with 
Kelley's  right  and  Perry's  left,  who  occupied  the  extreme 


98  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

left  wing;  while  Donald  McKay's  Indians  formed  a  skir- 
mish line  in  advance.  The  whole  line  stretched  out  a  mile 
or  more.  As  the  line  filed  out  of  camp,  their  arms  glittering 
in  the  bright  moonlight,  they  formed  a  beautiful  and  inspir- 
ing sight.  The  command,  "Forward  on  the  line"  was  now 
given  and  we  moved  forward  at  a  brisk  walk.  I  galloped 
down  the  line  and  watched  it  as  it  descended  the  steep  bluff. 
Low  down  and  stretching  over  the  lava  beds  lay  a  dense  fog, 
and  as  the  head  of  the  line  disappeared  it  looked  as  if  it  were 
going  into  the  sea.  As  I  sat  there  General  Wheaton  came  up 
and  insisted  that  I  should  leave  my  horse.  On  my  con- 
senting reluctantly,  he  detailed  a  soldier  who  took  the  animal 
back  to  camp. 

As  we  reached  the  bottom  of  the  bluff  the  entire  line  was 
deployed  in  the  form  of  a  half  wheel,  the  intention  being 
to  surround  the  savages  by  connecting  with  Bernard's  left 
and  capture  the  entire  band.  Daylight  now  began  to  peep 
through  the  fog  and  night,  and  "forward  on  the  line"  was 
given  and  taken  up  by  subalterns  and  repeated  until  it  died 
away  in  the  distance.  There  were  no  skirmishers  now. 
McKay  and  his  Indians  fell  back  and  remained  in  the 
rear  for  the  rest  of  the  day.  Slowly  the  line  moved  forward, 
stumbling  along  over  rocks,  but  keeping  in  perfect  order  of 
battle.  Soon  several  shots  were  heard  on  the  extreme  right. 
It  was  daylight,  and  someone  called  that  the  Indians  were 
escaping  around  Perry's  right.  Up  to  this  time  I  had  been 
with  General  Wheaton  in  the  rear,  but  ran  out  to  the  line  in 
time  to  see  the  Indians  in  our  front  leaping  from  rock  to  rock 
about  five  hundred  yards  away.  The  fog  had  lifted  and  a 
clear  day  was  promised.  I  jumped  upon  a  lava  wave  and 
waited  for  them  to  stop  to  get  a  shot.  Instantly  a  bullet 
sang  over  my  head,  but  thinking  they  were  shooting  at  me 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  99 

from  that  distance  paid  no  attention,  but  continued  watching 
the  leaping  red  devils.  In  about  the  time  that  is  required 
to  throw  in  a  cartridge  and  take  aim,  another  bullet  went  by, 
but  it  hissed  this  time  and  raised  the  hair  on  one  side  of  my 
head.  Still  thinking  that  they  were  shooting  at  me  from  a 
long  distance,  I  dropped  on  my  knee  with  rifle  to  shoulder. 
Instantly  the  red  devil,  with  sage  brush  tied  round  his  head 
raised  up  about  ninety  yards  from  me  and  again  fired.  I 
only  caught  a  glimpse  of  him  as  he  made  a  few  zig  zag 
leaps  among  the  rocks  and  disappeared.  I  fired  at  random 
but  failed  to  wing  my  game.  That  taught  a  rash,  presump- 
tuous young  fool  a  lesson,  and  he  contented  himself  for  the 
balance  of  the  day  imitating  the  men  in  the  line,  and  keeping 
well  under  cover. 

"Forward  on  the  line"  was  ever  the  command  and  by 
12  o'clock  we  had  driven  the  Indians  through  the  rocks 
several  miles.  Presently  word  came  down  the  line  that  the 
volunteers  could  not  be  found.  I  started  up  the  line  when 
General  Wheaton  called  to  me  to  come  back.  Returning  he 
directed  me  to  give  that  order  to  Donald  McKay.  It  was 
fortunate  for  me  that  I  was  called  back,  otherwise  I  should 
have  gone  in  behind  the  "juniper  fort,"  a  strong  fort  built 
around  a  stunted  juniper  tree,  and  standing  on  a  high  point  of 
lava.  I  gave  the  order  to  McKay  who  was  riding  a  small 
pony,  and  he  had  preceded  but  a  short  distance  when  the 
Indians  opened  on  him  from  the  fort  and  killed  his  pony. 
Some  one  remarked  that  "the  volunteers  are  firing  on  Mc- 
Kay," as  the  shooting  was  considerably  in  the  rear  and  to  the 
right.  We  all  ran  up  on  a  point  when  half  a  dozen  bullets 
came  singing  around  us.  For  once  in  my  life  I  was  glad  as 
I  distinctly  saw  Col.  John  Green  dodge.  He  was  an  old 
soldier  and  had  probably  been  in  more  battles  than  any  man 


100        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

in  the  army  and  to  see  him  dodge  from  bullets  was  salve  to 
my  pride. 

A  few  minutes  later  we  heard  a  yell  to  the  right  and  rear 
as  Kelley's  and  Applegate's  men  found  the  fort  and  charged 
it  on  the  run.  It  transpired  that  it  was  Mason's  line  that 
had  given  way  and  the  volunteers,  feeling  their  way,  had 
found  the  fort  and  taken  it.  But  they  lost  two  men,  Frank 
Trimble  and  a  man  named  Brown  of  Kelley's  command. 
Lieutenant  Evan  Ream  of  Kelley's  company,  was  also 
wounded,  but  he  refused  to  leave  the  line  after  his  knee  had 
been  bandaged.  A  large  caliber  bullet  had  hit  a  rock  and 
glancing  had  struck  him  on  the  knee  with  the  flat  side,  cutting 
through  his  clothing  and  burying  itself  in  the  flesh.  He  was 
knocked  down  and  we  all  thought  for  a  time  he  was  killed. 
He  is  now  a  merchant-banker  at  Klamath  Falls.  To  give 
the  reader  a  slight  idea  of  the  difficulties  under  which  we 
labored,  I  will  relate  one  incident  occurring  near  where  I 
was  standing.  A  soldier  was  crawling  up  an  upheaval,  push- 
ing his  rifle  before  him,  when  he  was  shot  through  the  body 
from  underneath. 

At  about  2  o'clock  Col.  Perry  came  down  the  line  and 
told  Gen.  Wheaton  that  he  could  go  no  further.  A  deep 
chasm,  he  said,  in  his  front  could  not  be  crossed.  "By  gad," 
replied  the  General,  "Col.  Perry,  you  must  cross  it."  "I 
can  cross  it,  General,  but  it  will  cost  me  half  my  command. 
Every  man  attempting  to  cross  it  has  been  killed,  and  two 
litter  bearers  going  to  the  relief  of  a  wounded  man  were 
killed."  Word  now  reached  us  from  Fairchilds  that  Ber- 
nard was  calling  for  help.  He  had  called  across  an  arm 
of  the  lake  that  ran  up  into  the  lava  beds  that  he  had  more 
wounded  men  that  he  could  take  care  of.  Gen.  Wheaton 
was  now  thoroughly  distressed,  saying  "when  Bernard  hal- 
lows he  is  badly  hurt."  We  then  determined  to  try  shell- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        101 

ing  the  Indians  with  the  howitzers  and  I  started  back  to  find 
the  pack  mules.  Reader,  if  you  ever  tried  to  appear  as  if 
you  were'nt  scared,  with  bullets  screaming  around  you,  and 
with  your  back  to  the  enemy,  you  will  know  something  of 
my  feelings.  Those  big  fellows,  striking  in  the  rocks  would 
glance  and  scream  with  an  unearthly  noise.  My  legs  wanted 
to  run,  but  pride  held  them  in  check.  And  right  here  I  want 
to  say,  that  bravery  is  only  pride  and  a  good  control  over 
your  legs. .  I  finally  found  the  pack  mules  and  started  back, 
but  it  wasn't  half  as  hard  facing  it  and  we  came  bravely  up 
to  the  line.  The  guns  were  planted  and  opened  with  shells 
timed  to  three  hundred  yards.  Two  burst  and  a  call  came 
from  Bernard's  men  that  we  were  shelling  their  rear  guard. 

Firing  with  the  howitzers  ceased  as  it  was  clearly  a  fail- 
ure, and  a  consultation  was  held.  We  knew  our  loss  was 
heavy,  Gen.  Ross  declaring  it  "is  worse  than  Hungry  Hill." 
It  was  finally  determined  to  send  a  column  to  relieve  Col. 
Bernard.  Accordingly  Fairchild's  California  volunteers, 
Mason's  battalion  and  Perry's  dismounted  cavalry  were 
ordered  to  cut  their  way  around  the  lake  shore  and  join  Ber- 
nard. Fairchild's  men  passed  over  the  point  without  loss, 
but  several  of  Mason's  men  were  killed  in  plain  sight.  The 
soldiers  balked  and  refused  to  advance.  Col.  Green  ran 
down  the  line  and  leaping  upon  the  point  turned  his  back  to 
the  Indians  and  with  a  gauntlet  in  his  hand  used  language 
that  was  scarcely  fit  for  a  parlor.  Gen.  Wheaton  also  joined 
and  with  a  sword  taken  from  a  bugler  boy,  ran  down  the  line 
urging  the  men  to  move  forward.  They  soon  began  the  ad- 
vance and  passed  over  the  point  and  out  of  sight.  Meantime 
I  was  moving  the  volunteers  down  towards  the  lake  to  take 
the  places  in  our  front  vacated  by  the  relief  column.  The 
battle  now  became  desperate,  the  Indians  concentrating  all 


102         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

their  forces  against  the  column  going  round  the  lake.  In  this 
situation  the  volunteers  pressed  forward  and  soon  we  could 
hear  the  women  and  children  crying.  Applegate's  men  were 
almost  on  top  of  them  and  were  getting  into  camp.  We  were 
within  50  yards  of  the  scalp  pole  over  Jack's  cave  which 
was  the  center  of  the  stronghold.  The  volunteers  were  anx- 
ious to  charge.  I  went  back  to  where  Gen.  Wheaton  was 
standing  and  explaining  the  situation  asked  permission  to 
charge  with  all  the  volunteers.  The  fog  had  raised  and 
Capt.  Adams  of  the  signal  staff  was  signaling  to  Bernard. 
I  told  Gen.  Wheaton  if  he  would  have  Bernard  cease  firing 
I  would  charge  and  close  the  Indians  out  in  twenty  minutes, 
that  our  men  were  on  top  of  them. 

The  General  walked  rapidly  back  and  forth,  snapping  his 
fingers  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  turning  to  me  exclaimed : 
"You  can  go,  but  not  with  my  consent.  We  have  lost  too 
many  men  already — five  times  more  than  Jackson  lost  at 
New  Orleans.  The  country  will  not  justify  this  sacrifice  of 
human  life.  You  have  taken  these  young  men  and  boys  off 
the  farms  and  from  stores,  schools  and  shops  and  their  lives 
are  worth  something  to  their  families  and  to  their  country. 
You  can  go  but  not  with  my  consent."  Then  turning  to  Gen. 
Ross,  who  had  scarcely  spoken  a  word  during  the  day,  he 
said:  "General,  what  had  we  better  do?"  "We  had  better 
get  out  of  here,  by  God,"  exclaimed  the  bluff  old  veteran. 
"All  right,  Capt.  Adams,  tell  Bernard  that  as  soon  as  the 
relief  column  reaches  him  to  hold  his  position  until  dark  and 
then  withdraw,"  exclaimed  Wheaton  in  rapid  succession. 
Then  turning  to  me  he  said:  "Colonel,  we  will  have  to  de- 
pend on  the  volunteers  to  protect  our  wounded  and  mule 
train  in  getting  out  of  this  place."  It  was  soon  arranged  that 
the  men  were  to  keep  firing  until  dark  and  then  begin  the 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         103 

retreat.  Just  after  sundown  Bernard  signaled  that  the  relief 
column  had  reached  him,  but  there  is  not  a  question  of  doubt 
had  not  the  volunteers  pressed  the  Indians  so  hard  at  a  crit- 
ical time  Fairchild's,  Mason's  and  Perry's  command  would 
have  been  annihilated.  Jud  Small  was  badly  wounded  in 
the  shoulder  and  afterwards  told  me  that  he  was  shot  by 
an  Indian  not  twenty  feet  away.  At  one  point  the  men  lay 
in  the  water  and  rolled  over  and  over  with  only  their  heads 
exposed. 

Night  finally  closed  in  and  with  the  gathering  darkness 
the  fog  rolled  in  from  the  lake,  increasing  its  intensity. 
Kelley's  company  was  formed  in  the  rear  with  Applegate's 
company  on  the  flank,  and  formed  parallel  with  the  lake, 
along  the  shores  of  which  we  were  to  make  our  way,  with 
the  wounded  men  on  litters  between.  Finally  the  word  was 
passed  along  the  lines  to  move  forward.  The  night  had 
meanwhile  settled  down  to  one  of  Stygean  blackness.  Ob- 
jects a  foot  away  were  indistinguishable,  and  we  had  to  feel 
rather  than  see  our  way.  I  fully  realized  the  difficulties  and 
dangers  of  our  situation,  but  my  anxiety  was  for  the  nineteen 
wounded  men  on  the  litters.  I  told  Col.  Bellinger  that  we 
must  remain  together  and  behind  the  litter  bearers,  that  I 
would  rather  leave  my  body  with  our  dead  comrades  in  the 
rocks  than  to  leave  behind  any  of  our  wounded  men.  But 
we  had  proceeded  but  a  short  distance  when  the  lines 
crumbled  and  became  mixed  up,  in  fact,  an  undistinguishable 
mob.  Under  these  circumstances,  and  relying  on  undisciplined 
troops,  our  position  was  critical  in  the  extreme.  One  shot 
would  have  precipitated  a  stampede.  Wheaton,  Ross  and 
Miller  were  somewhere  mixed  up  among  the  troops,  but 
Bellinger  and  I  stuck  to  the  litter  bearers  and  kept  as  many 
of  the  men  behind  us  as  possible. 


104        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Donald  McKay's  Indians  were  in  the  advance,  some- 
where, but  we  knew  not  where.  In  this  order,  or  rather  dis- 
order, we  stumbled  along  blindly,  knowing  the  waters  of 
the  lake  were  on  our  right.  The  bottom  of  the  bluff  was 
finally  reached  and  word  passed  back  that  the  Modocs  had 
captured  and  held  the  summit.  I  stopped  as  many  of  the 
men  as  possible  and  asked  Col.  Bellinger  to  remain  with  the 
litter  bearers  and  I  would  go  forward  and  if  necessary  cap- 
ture it  back.  Reaching  the  front  I  found  Indians,  volun- 
teers and  officers  all  jumbled  together  without  semblance  of 
order.  The  Indians  were  confident  the  Modocs  had  killed 
the  guards  left  there  in  the  morning  and  held  the  top  of  the 
bluff.  I  called  for  volunteers,  but  not  an  Indian  would  go. 
I  finally  got  a  few  volunteers  and  began  the  ascent  of  the 
steep,  rocky  trail.  The  climb  was  tedious  in  the  extreme,  and 
one  can  imagine  my  joy  when  on  nearing  the  crest  there  came 
the  sharp  call,  "Who  comes  there?"  I  was  prompt  to  reply 
"friends."  Learning  that  all  was  well,  I  retraced  my  steps 
to  the  bottom  and  gave  out  the  welcome  news  that  everything 
was  clear. 

Then  began  a  scramble  to  reach  the  top.  It  was  every- 
body for  himself,  as  it  was  too  dark  to  even  attempt  to  pre- 
serve a  semblance  of  order  or  discipline.  Going  to  the  rear 
I  found  Col.  Bellinger  with  the  wounded  men.  Holding  as 
many  men  as  possible  we  began  the  ascent.  As  the  litter 
bearers  gave  out  others  took  their  places  and  the  tired  men 
slipped  away  in  the  darkness.  As  we  neared  the  top,  Col. 
Bellinger  and  I  relieved  two  worn  out  bearers  and  that  was 
the  last  we  saw  of  them.  In  this  condition  we  staggered  into 
camp  at  2  o'clock  in  the  morning,  more  dead  than  alive.  To 
add  to  the  discomfort  of  the  situation  others  had  reached 
our  store  of  provisions  ahead  of  us,  and  we  simply  had  to 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        105 

do  without.  We  had  now  been  on  the  march  24  hours.  Our 
boot  soles  were  almost  cut  away  on  the  sharp  lava,  and  we 
were  all  but  barefooted.  But  I  had  my  horse,  and  though 
I  had  nothing  to  eat,  I  felt  greatly  relieved.  A  few  hours 
sleep  on  the  frozen  ground  and  we  were  again  astir.  I  was 
holding  my  horse  to  graze  when  Gen.  Wheaton's  orderly 
came  to  me  and  stated  that  the  General  wanted  to  see  me 
at  his  tent.  Handing  him  the  halter  strap  I  walked  down  to 
the  tent  and  stepped  in.  The  General  was  sitting  on  the 
ground  with  a  can  of  coffee  before  him.  He  said  he  had 
a  couple  of  cups  of  coffee  and  four  crackers  and  wanted  to 
divide  with  me.  It  required  no  persuasion  on  his  part  to  in- 
duce me  to  accept. 

While  we  were  sipping  our  coffee  we  discussed  the  events 
of  the  previous  day.  The  General  was  visibly  affected  and 
greatly  worried.  Even  then  we  did  not  know  the  full  extent 
of  our  losses.  The  dead  were  left  where  they  fell  and  only 
our  wounded  carried  out.  Would  the  country  justify  the 
sacrifice  of  life,  not  knowing  the  character  of  the  country 
over  which  we  had  fought?  Speaking  of  the  lava  beds,  the 
General  remarked:  "I  have  seen  something  of  war  and  know 
something  of  fortifications.  I  commanded  19,000  men  at 
the  battle  of  the  Wilderness  and  saw  many  of  the  great  en- 
gineering works  of  the  Civil  war,  but  I  do  not  believe  that 
a  hundred  thousand  men  in  a  hundred  thousand  years  could 
construct  such  fortifications."  This  will  give  the  reader  a 
faint  idea  of  the  lava  beds.  Indeed  a  regiment  of  men  could 
conceal  themselves  in  its  caves  and  fissures  and  ten  thousand 
men  could  be  marched  over  them  without  seeing  a  man. 

Placing  the  wounded  in  ambulances  we  now  broke  camp 
and  started  to  our  camp  at  Van  Bremer's  ranch.  After  a 
tiresome  march  by  way  of  Lower  Klamath  Lake,  the 


106         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

wounded  men  undergoing  terrible  sufferings,  we  reached 
camp  at  1  1  o'clock  that  night.  Here  another  difficulty  con- 
fronted us.  Our  provision  train  had  not  arrived  and  we 
were  reduced  to  beef  straight.  There  was  some  murmuring 
among  the  men,  kept  up  and  agitated  by  a  doctor  attached 
to  Kelley's  company  who  told  the  men  that  they  had  been 
robbed  and  swindled  by  the  officers.  Hearing  of  this  I 
hunted  him  up.  He  said  that  a  "soldier  did  not  dare  to  com- 
plain without  being  called  a  s — of — a — b."  Twenty  or 
thirty  volunteers  were  standing  around.  I  explained  that  the 
wagons  had  been  two  weeks  on  the  road ;  that  they  had  made 
only  ten  miles  in  seven  days;  and  that  a  man,  private  or 
officer  who  would  talk  about  asking  for  his  discharge,  though 
all  were  entitled  to  the  same,  was  a  son  of  a  b — h,  and  a 
d — d  one  at  that.  He  went  to  Gen.  Ross  and  complained 
of  my  language,  but  was  told  that  the  "Colonel  knew  what 
he  was  talking  about."  The  disgruntled  pill  mixer  mounted 
his  horse  and  left,  and  that  was  the  last  we  heard  about  be- 
ing discharged.  We  continued  feasting  on  beef  straight  and 
fattened  on  the  diet,  at  least  I  did. 

The  day  after  our  return  we  buried  the  man  I  had  seen 
shot  through  the  stomach,  while  crawling  on  his  belly.  Pat- 
rick Maher  was  buried  with  military  honors.  On  the  fourth 
day  the  troops  sent  to  relieve  Col.  Bernard  arrived  at  camp, 
and  the  reports  all  being  in  we  found  that  41  men  had  been 
killed  in  the  fighting  on  the  1 6th  and  1  7th  of  January.  The 
death  of  Patrick  Maher  made  42,  besides  a  long  list  of 
wounded.  When  we  consider  that  there  were  not  more  than 
500  engaged,  counting  McKay's  Indians,  the  loss  was  heavy, 
and  would  the  Government  endorse  or  censure  the  officers, 
was  the  question. 

As  before  stated,  we  were  camped  at  the  ranch  of  Van 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         107 

Bremer  Bros.  On  our  return  Col.  Bellinger  and  I  had  to 
give  up  our  quarters  in  an  out  house  to  accommodate  the 
wounded  men  and  after  that  we  slept,  when  we  slept  at  all, 
on  the  frozen  ground  with  two  thicknesses  of  blanket  beneath 
us.  Under  such  circumstances  it  may  easily  be  imagined 
that  our  periods  of  sleep  were  of  short  duration.  We  would 
drop  asleep  and  in  an  hour  wake  up  shivering.  We  would 
get  up,  cut  off  some  beef  and  roast  it  before  the  fires  that 
were  constantly  kept  burning,  get  warm  and  then  lie  down 
again.  I  mention  this,  not  because  we  were  undergoing 
hardships  more  trying  than  others,  but  to  show  how  all,  offi- 
cers and  men,  fared.  There  was  no  difference.  One  day 
a  surgeon  came  to  me  and  asked  if  I  could  obtain  some  eggs 
for  the  wounded  men,  so  I  went  to  Van  Bremer  and  got  half 
a  dozen  eggs  and  paid  50  cents  each  for  them.  He  would 
not  take  script  but  demanded  and  received  the  cash,  nearly 
all  I  had.  From  that  time  until  our  departure  I  spent  a  con- 
siderable portion  of  my  time  in  studying  human  villiany  with 
the  Van  Bremers  as  a  model.  But  I  got  even  with  them — • 
and  then  some.  Before  leaving  I  asked  Gen.  Ross  for  per- 
mission to  settle  our  hay  bill  in  place  of  the  Quartermaster, 
Mr.  Foudray.  Capt.  Adams  and  I  then  measured  the  hay 
used  respectively  by  the  regulars  and  volunteers,  and  I  feel 
safe  in  saying  that  those  eggs  cost  the  Van  Bremer  Bros. 
$50  each. 

Of  course  they  raved  and  ranted,  declaring  that  we  were 
worse  than  the  Modocs,  but  when  they  saw  the  tents  of  the 
regulars  and  blankets  of  the  volunteers  being  pulled  down 
and  rolled  up  they  came  to  me  and  asked  what  it  meant.  I 
told  them  that  we  had  been  ordered  to  the  mouth  of  Lost 
River  on  Tule  Lake  to  protect  the  Oregon  settlers,  and  that 
the  regulars  were  going  also,  but  that  Gen.  Wheaton  was 


108        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

going  to  leave  a  detail  at  the  Fairchilds  ranch  and  that  if 
they  did  not  feel  safe  with  the  Modocs  they  could  move  up 
there.  They  lost  no  time  in  loading  a  few  effects  into  a 
wagon  and  started  with  us  to  the  Fairchilds  ranch.  On  the 
road  they  mired  down  and  every  man,  regular  and  volunteer, 
passing  them  had  something  bitter  and  mean  to  say  to  them. 
The  story  of  the  eggs  was  known  to  all,  and  if  ever  men  paid 
for  a  scurvy,  mean  trick  it  was  the  Van  Bremers. 

We  moved  around  to  Lost  River  and  struck  camp,  where 
we  remained  about  ten  days.  As  Gen.  Wheaton  felt  com- 
petent to  protect  the  settlements,  and  as  the  term  of  enlist- 
ment of  the  volunteers  had  expired  more  than  a  month  before, 
we  proceeded  to  Linkville  and  from  there  to  Jacksonville 
where  the  command  of  Capt.  Kelley  was  disbanded,  Apple- 
gate's  company  having  been  discharged  at  Linkville.  I  then 
returned  to  Salem  and  a  few  days  later  paid  a  visit  to  Gen. 
Canby  at  Ft.  Vancouver  in  company  with  Governor  L.  F. 
Grover.  The  entire  situation  was  gone  over,  Gen.  Canby 
expressing  entire  confidence  in  the  ability  of  Gen.  Wheaton 
and  his  officers.  Fortunate,  indeed,  would  it  have  been  had 
that  brave  officer  and  splendid  gentleman  been  left  to  develop 
and  carry  out  his  plans,  but  unhappily  that  was  not  to  be, 
for  the  churches  succeeded  in  hypnotizing  the  grim  soldier 
in  the  White  House,  and  the  result  was  the  "Peace  Commis- 
sion." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  PEACE  COMMISSION'S  WORK. 

A.  B.  Meacham  was  at  that  time  in  Washington.  He  had 
been  superseded  as  Superintendent  of  Indian  Affairs  by 
T.  B.  Odeneal.  Meacham  wanted  the  place,  and  backed  by 
the  churches  and  humanitarians  of  New  England,  thought 
he  could  accomplish  his  purpose  by  means  of  a  compromise 
with  Jack  and  his  band.  He  declared  to  President  Grant 
that  he  knew  Jack  to  be  an  honorable  man  and  that  he  could 
easily  effect  a  compromise  and  induce  the  outlaws  to  return 
to  the  reservation.  Meantime  a  clamor  went  up  all  over  the 
country,  especially  in  the  east.  Sentimentalists  shed  barrels 
of  tears  over  the  wrongs  of  the  Indians,  the  horrors  of  the 
Ben  Wright  massacre  were  recapitulated  with  all  manner  of 
untruthful  variations,  and  the  great  Beecher  from  the  pulpit 
of  his  Brooklyn  tabernacle  sent  up  a  prayer  for  "that  poor, 
persecuted  people  whose  long  pent  up  wrongs  had  driven 
them  to  acts  of  outrage  and  diabolical  murder."  Delega- 
tions, at  the  instigation  of  Meacham,  visited  the  White  House 
and  finally  succeeded  in  bending  the  iron  will  of  the  grim 
old  soldier  to  their  own.  The  hands  that  slew  the  Bodys 
and  Brothertons  were  to  be  clasped  in  a  spirit  of  brotherly 
love,  and  the  principles  and  precepts  of  the  "Lowly  Naza- 
rene"  were  to  be  extended  to  these  gentle  butchers. 

Accordingly  in  February  a  commission  was  appointed  con- 
sisting of  A.  B.  Meacham,  Jesse  Applegate,  and  S.  Case. 
The  commission  arrived  at  headquarters  towards  the  last  of 
February.  They  were  instructed  by  the  Commissioner  of 


110        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Indian  Affairs  "to  ascertain  the  causes  which  led  to  hostili- 
ties between  the  Modocs  and  the  U.  S.  troops;"  to  offer  them 
a  reservation  somewhere  on  the  coast  with  immunity  for  past 
crimes.  In  vain  Gov.  Grover  of  Oregon  protested  against 
any  compromise  with  the  murderers  of  Oregon  citizens.  He 
held  that  they  were  amenable  to  the  laws  of  that  State,  had 
been  indicted  by  a  grand  jury,  and  should  be  tried  and  exe- 
cuted as  the  law  directs,  but  his  protest  was  passed  unheeded 
and  the  commissioners  proceeded  to  carry  out  their  instruc- 
tions. Bob  Whittle  and  his  Indian  wife  were  sent  to  con- 
vey the  terms  to  Capt.  Jack  and  his  band,  but  Jack  refused 
to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  commissioners,  although 
willing  to  talk  to  Judges  Roseborough  and  Steele  of  Yreka. 
These  gentlemen  proceeded  to  the  camp  in  the  lava  beds  and 
held  a  conference  and  found  that  Jack  was  anxious  for 
peace;  was  tired  of  war;  did  not  know  the  commissioners; 
but  wanted  to  talk  to  the  chief  soldiers,  Generals  Canby  and 
Gillem.  The  former  had  arrived  and  assumed  command  of 
the  one  thousand  or  more  troops  assembled,  while  the  latter 
had  superseded  Gen.  Wheaton.  John  Fairchilds  also  had 
an  interview  with  them  in  the  lava  beds  and  was  only  saved 
from  massacre  by  one  of  the  Indians,  who  kept  him  in  his 
cave  all  night  and  escorted  him  beyond  the  lines  the  next 
morning.  After  some  weeks  of  delay  Jack  finally  agreed  to 
a  conference  with  the  commissioners,  but  the  terms  were  such 
as  to  leave  no  doubt  of  intended  treachery,  and  Mr.  Apple- 
gate  and  Mr.  Case  resigned  in  disgust.  It  was  apparent  to 
these  men  that  the  Indians  only  sought  an  opportunity  to 
murder  Gen.  Canby  and  such  other  officers  as  they  could 
get  into  their  power,  but  Meacham  was  determined  to  suc- 
ceed, as  that  was  the  only  means  of  getting  back  his  job  as 
Superintendent  of  Indian  Affairs.  Accordingly  Rev.  Dr. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        111 

Thomas  of  Oakland  and  Mr.  Dyer,  Indian  agent  at  Kla- 
math,  were  appointed  to  fill  the  vacancies. 

In  the  meantime  Gen.  Canby  had  moved  his  headquarters 
to  the  foot  of  the  bluff  at  the  lower  end  of  Tule  Lake,  while 
Col.  John  Green  with  Mason's  command  had  moved  down 
from  Land's  ranch  to  a  position  within  striking  distance  of 
the  stronghold.  Five  mortars  and  three  howitzers  with  an 
abundance  of  ammunition  and  provisions  were  also  moved 
up  to  the  front. 

But  the  dreary  farce  was  not  to  be  ended  yet.  On  April 
10th  four  bucks  and  five  squaws  rode  into  Gen.  Canby's 
camp.  They  were  fed  and  clothed  by  the  commission, 
loaded  with  presents,  and  sent  back  asking  for  a  conference 
between  the  lines.  Later  in  the  day  Bogus  Charley,  the 
Umpqua,  came  into  camp  and  surrendering  his  gun,  stated 
that  he  would  not  return.  He  remained  in  camp  over  night 
and  in  the  morning  was  joined  by  "Boston  Charley,"  one  of 
the  leaders  who  stated  that  Capt.  Jack  was  willing  to  meet 
the  commissioners  midway  between  the  lines  on  the  condi- 
tion that  Jack  was  to  be  attended  by  four  of  his  men,  all  un- 
armed. Boston  then  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 
Bogus  accompanying  him. 

A  tent  had  been  pitched  midway  between  the  lines  and 
thither  Commissioners  Meacham,  Thomas,  and  Dyer,  and 
Gen.  Caaby  repaired  accompanied  by  Frank  Riddle  and  his 
Modoc  wife  as  interpreters.  Before  starting  both  Riddle  and 
his  squaw  in  vain  tried  to  dissuade  the  commissioners  from 
their  purpose.  Meacham  told  Gen.  Canby  that  Riddle  only 
sought  to  delay  negotiations  in  order  to  prolong  his  job  as 
interpreter;  that  he  knew  Capt.  Jack  and  that  he  "was  an 
honorable  man."  Rev.  Mr.  Thomas  when  appealed  to  by 
Riddle  replied  that  he  "was  in  the  hands  of  his  God."  Both 


112        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Riddle  and  his  squaw  then,  at  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Dyer, 
went  to  the  tent  of  Gen.  Canby  and  begged  him  not  to  go. 
With  tears  streaming  down  her  cheeks  the  woman  implored 
the  General  not  to  go,  as  treachery  was  surely  meditated. 
Gen.  Canby  replied  that  "his  Government  had  ordered  him 
to  go,  and  a  soldier  had  no  choice  but  to  obey  orders."  The 
General  was  dressed  in  full  uniform,  with  sword  belt  and 
empty  scabbard. 

Gen.  Gillem  intended  to  accompany  them  but  was  too 
indisposed  to  leave  his  tent.  Riddle,  in  describing  what 
transpired  at  the  "peace  tent,"  told  me  that  Meacham  made 
a  short  speech  and  was  followed  by  Dr.  Thomas  and  Gen. 
Canby.  Capt.  Jack  then  made  a  speech,  demanding  Hot 
Creek  and  Cottonwood  as  a  reservation,  owned  at  that  time 
by  the  Dorris  brothers,  Fairchilds  and  Doten.  Meacham 
then  explained  to  him  the  impossibility  of  acceeding  to  his  de- 
mands, as  the  property  had  already  passed  in  title  to  these 
men.  Old  Sconchin  then  told  Meacham  to  "shut  up;"  that 
he  had  said  enough.  While  Sconchin  was  talking  Jack  got 
up  and  was  walking  behind  the  others.  He  then  turned 
back  and  exclaimed:  "All  ready!"  At  the  same  instant 
he  drew  a  pistol  and  snapped  at  Gen.  Canby,  but  cocking 
the  pistol  again  shot  him  through  the  right  eye.  Canby  fell 
dead  without  a  groan.  Almost  at  the  same  instant  Sconchin 
shot  Meacham  through  the  shoulder,  in  the  head  and  in  the 
arm,  while  Boston  Charley  shot  Dr.  Thomas  dead.  Just 
previous  to  the  shooting  Mr.  Dyer  had  turned  and  walked 
back  behind  the  tent.  At  the  first  crack  of  the  pistols  Mr. 
Dyer  fled  for  his  life,  closely  pursued  by  Hooker  Jim.  Mr. 
Dyer  had  concealed  a  small  revolver  about  his  person  and 
turned  at  intervals  of  his  flight  and  fired  at  his  pursuer.  By 
this  means  he  was  enabled  to  make  headway  and  at  last 
escaped. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         113 

Gen.  Canby  and  Dr.  Thomas  were  stripped  and  the  Gen- 
eral scalped.  Meacham  was  insensible  and  as  the  Indians 
started  in  to  scalp  him  Riddle's  squaw  told  them  that  the 
soldiers  were  coming,  and  they  left  him  and  fled.  To  this 
fact  Meacham  was  indebted  for  his  scalp,  as  it  was  partly 
cut  loose  and  in  a  few  moments  more  would  have  been 
stripped  off. 

While  these  scenes  were  being  enacted,  two  Indians  ap- 
proached the  lines  of  Mason  and  Green  bearing  a  flag  of 
truce.  Lieutenants  Sherwood  and  Boyle  went  out  about  500 
yards  beyond  their  line  to  meet  them.  The  Indians  said  they 
wanted  to  see  Maj.  Mason  and  when  told  by  the  officers  that 
Mason  would  not  talk  to  them,  they  appeared  disappointed. 
As  the  officers  turned  to  go  back  to  their  lines  they  were  fired 
upon  by  Indians  in  ambush  and  Lieut.  Sherwood  was  mor- 
tally wounded. 

Early  in  the  day  Capt.  Adams  had  been  stationed  on 
Gillem's  bluff  and  during  all  the  proceedings  at  the  peace 
tent  had  watched  with  a  strong  field  glass.  When  the  mass- 
acre of  the  commission  began  he  telegraphed  to  Gen.  Gillem, 
and  the  soldiers,  held  in  readiness  for  an  emergency,  sprang 
to  the  advance  on  the  double  quick,  but  were  too  late  to 
save  the  life  of  the  gallant  Canby  and  his  comrades. 

Thus  ended  the  long,  dreary  farce  of  the  "Peace  Com- 
mission." And  at  what  a  price!  There  lay  the  noble  Canby 
prone  upon  his  face,  cold  and  still  in  death;  having  breasted 
the  hurricane  of  many  a  well-fought  field  to  fall  at  last  by 
the  treacherous,  assassin  hand  of  a  prowling  savage  to  whom 
he  had  come  upon  a  mission  of  peace  and  friendship.  There 
was  another  of  the  Commissioners,  a  man  of  peace,  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel  of  eternal  love,  stricken  down  with  the  words 
of  mercy  and  forgiveness  upon  his  lips,  his  gray  and  rever- 


114         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

end  locks  all  dabbled  in  his  own  blood.  Another,  shot  and 
hacked  and  stabbed,  covered  with  wounds,  beaten  down 
with  cruel  blows,  motionless  but  still  alive.  And  there  was 
another,  with  warwhoop  and  pistol  shot  ringing  at  his  heels, 
fleeing  for  his  life;  while  at  the  side  scene  was  the  "honor- 
able" Capt.  Jack,  stage  manager  of  the  awful  play,  arch 
demon  of  massacre,  with  pistol  that  took  the  priceless  life  of 
Canby  still  smoking  in  his  hand,  leaping  with  glee,  his  dark 
face  all  aglow  with  the  glare  of  the  dread  spectacle,  like  a 
fiend  dancing  in  the  fire-light  of  hell. 

No  wonder  that  in  its  lurid  light  the  Government  for  a 
moment  forgot  its  dawdling  "peace  policy,"  and  "let  slip 
the  dogs  of  war."  No  wonder  the  canting  prayers  of  maud- 
lin fanatics  were  stilled  amid  the  wrathful  cry  for  vengenance. 
The  blood  of  Canby  and  Thomas  and  Sherwood  "cried  unto 
God  from  the  ground"  against  them.  The  ghastly,  sickening 
tragedy  which  should  send  a  thrill  through  the  very  heart  of 
the  nation  was  consummated. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THREE  DAYS*  BATTLE  IN  THE  LAVA  BEDS. 

The  day  following  the  massacre  preparations  were  made 
for  an  attack  in  full  force  upon  the  stronghold.  Only  the 
regulars  were  to  be  engaged  in  this  task,  as  the  volunteers 
had  been  discharged,  under  assurance  from  Gen.  Canby 
that  he  was  strong  enough  to  control  the  situation  and  pro- 
tect the  settlements.  The  plan  of  battle  which  was  the 
same  as  that  adopted  by  Gen.  Wheaton  on  the  1  7th  of  Jan- 
uary was  to  form  a  cordon  of  troops  around  the  hostiles  and 
either  kill  or  capture  them.  The  troops  were  supplied  with 
overcoats,  blankets,  three  days'  provisions  and  an  abundance 
of  ammunition.  On  April  1  3,  Donald  McKay  arrived  with 
seventy-two  Wasco  Indians  who  were  at  once  armed  and  as- 
signed to  duty,  and  who  made  a  splendid  record.  Some 
slight  skirmishing  had  taken  place,  but  no  general  forward 
movement  was  made  until  the  1 4th,  when  the  rattle  of  small 
arms,  the  yells  of  the  savages,  and  the  deep  boom  of  the 
mortars  and  howitzers  told  that  the  battle  was  on.  All  day 
long  the  troops  continued  to  advance,  slowly,  keeping  under 
cover  as  much  as  possible,  and  driving  the  Indians  before 
them.  Even  with  every  precaution  there  was  a  list  of  killed 
and  wounded.  As  night  closed  in  the  troops  held  their  posi- 
tion, but  the  mortars  and  howitzers  continued  to  send  into 
the  stronghold  a  stream  of  shells,  mingled  with  the  occasional 
discharge  of  small  arms  and  the  yells  of  the  savages. 

During  the  night  Col.  Green  and  Maj.  Mason,  disobeying 
orders  (I  know  what  I  am  saying)  drove  a  column  in  be- 


116        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

tween  the  Indians  and  the  lake,  thus  shutting  them  off  from 
water.  This  was  carrying  out  the  plans  formulated  and  ad- 
vised by  Gen.  Wheaton  and  Gen.  Ross  after  the  battle  on 
the  1  7th  of  January.  When  the  Indians  discovered  this  move 
they  made  a  determined  attempt  to  break  the  line,  but  the 
troops  had  had  time  to  fortify  and  the  attempt  proved  a  fail- 
ure. 

Gen.  Gillem  the  next  morning  sent  for  John  Fairchilds  and 
asked  him  to  go  with  Capt.  Bancroft  and  show  him  where  to 
plant  the  mortars  and  also  show  him  the  center  of  the  strong- 
hold. Fairchilds  told  the  General  that  he  would  show  him, 
but  that  he  was  tired  acting  as  errand  boy  for  Tom,  Dick 
and  Harry — that  he  had  risked  his  life  enough.  Under 
these  circumstances,  the  General  had  to  go.  They  started 
out  and  had  almost  reached  the  line,  bullets  were  singing 
around,  when  the  General,  rubbing  his  hands,  remarked: 
"Mr.  Fairchilds,  this  is  a  splendid  day's  work;  how  long  did 
it  take  Gen.  Wheaton  to  get  this  far?"  Fairchilds,  as  brave 
a  man  as  ever  trod  in  shoe  leather,  replied:  "General,  I 
do  not  remember  exactly,  but  as  near  as  I  can  judge  it  was 
about  twenty  minutes."  That  remark  settled  the  friendly 
relations  between  the  two  men.  I  want  to  say  here  that  Gil- 
lem was  not  the  man  for  the  place.  He  was  self-willed,  self- 
opinionated,  knew  nothing  about  Indian  warfare;  in  fact, 
got  his  shoulder  straps  through  the  enterprise  of  one  of  his 
officers  and  the  treachery  of  a  woman,  in  killing  the  Con- 
federate Gen.  Morgan.  He  had  nothing  else  to  recommend 
him,  and  would  not  take  advice  from  old  veterans  like  Green, 
Mason,  Bernard,  Perry  and  Hasbrook — men  who  had 
grown  gray  in  frontier  service. 

At  9  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  second  day,  Col. 
Green  ordered  an  advance.  The  men  answered  with  a 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         117 

cheer,  and  soon  reached  a  position  on  top  of  the  ridge  next 
to  Jack's  camp.  Some  of  the  other  lines  also  slowly  ad- 
vanced during  the  day.  Towards  evening  another  desperate 
attempt  was  made  by  the  Indians  to  break  the  line  between 
them  and  water.  At  this  time  a  very  near  approach  to  a 
battle  was  reached.  Volley  after  volley  of  rifles  rang  out, 
and  mingled  with  the  yells  of  the  savages  and  roar  of  the 
artillery  made  some  of  the  old  veterans  of  the  Civil  war  think 
they  were  really  in  a  fight.  All  the  same,  men  were  being 
killed  and  others  wounded,  even  though  there  was  no  battle. 

Col.  Green  realized  that  if  the  Indians  could  be  kept  from 
the  water,  they  would  have  to  surrender  or  leave  the  strong- 
hold, and  he  held  on  with  the  tenacity  of  a  bulldog.  Dur- 
ing the  night  the  squaws  went  out  under  the  lines  and  re- 
turned with  a  load  of  snow,  but  the  warm  spell  of  weather 
melted  the  snow  rapidly  and  soon  this  source  was  cut  off. 
Still  the  outlaws  held  on,  and  for  three  days  and  nights, 
pressed  in  by  men  and  guns  on  every  side,  subjected  to  a 
fire  from  four  sides,  with  five  mortars  and  three  howitzers 
raining  shells  upon  them,  they  held  to  the  "hole  in  the  wall" 
that  had  been  for  ages  their  salvation  and  their  safeguard. 
The  constant  rain  of  bursting  shells  had  filled  the  caves  and 
crevices  of  the  lava  beds  with  smoke,  and  cut  off  from  water, 
on  the  night  of  the  third  day  they  quietly  slipped  out  from 
under  Gen.  Gillem's  lines  and  left — no  one  knew  where. 

It  may  appear  incredible,  but  it  is  true,  that  during  all  this 
battle  of  three  days  and  nights,  amid  the  hum  of  tons  of 
leaden  bullets  and  the  bursting  of  countless  shells,  not  a 
single  Indian  was  killed.  We  must  except  one  buck  who 
started  in  to  investigate  an  unexploded  shell.  That  buck 
was  going  to  "get  'um  powder  and  lead  out"  with  file  and 
hatchet,  and  was  scattered  out  over  the  rocks  for  his  inquis- 


118        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

itiveness.  But  the  other  Indians  were  nowhere  to  be  seen. 
They  had  passed  out  under  the  line  of  troops  as  ants  would 
pass  through  a  sponge.  The  troops  took  possession  of  the 
lava  beds,  the  stronghold,  but  the  Indians  were  gone.  It 
yet  remained  for  Gen.  Gillem  to  learn  another  lesson  in  In- 
dian warfare. 

When  the  news  was  received  by  Gov.  Grover  that  the  In- 
dians had  left  the  stronghold  and  that  the  settlers  were  again 
exposed,  he  ordered  out  two  companies  of  volunteers,  one 
from  Douglas  county  under  Capt.  Rodgers  and  the  other 
from  Jackson  county  under  Capt.  Hizer.  I  was  not  ordered 
at  the  time  to  accompany  the  volunteers,  the  "mad-cap  from 
Salem"  was  to  be  left  behind,  but  not  for  long.  In  spite 
of  the  abuse  of  enemies,  mostly  those  fellows  who  sought 
safety  with  women  and  children  behind  strong  stockades,  and 
the  declaration  of  Mr.  Meacham  that  I  was  responsible  for 
the  slaughter  of  men  on  the  1  7th  of  January,  "when  the 
brave,  reckless,  mad-cap,  Col.  Thompson,  drove  his  men 
against  the  lines  of  the  Modocs,"  I  was  again  sent  to  the 
front.  In  my  letters  and  newspaper  articles  I  had  severely 
censured  Mr.  Meacham  and  he  took  revenge  in  his  "Wig- 
wam and  Warpath"  by  declaring  the  mad-cap  was  to  blame 
for  the  slaughter.  I  never  met  him  but  once  after  the  close 
of  the  war  and  that  was  in  the  library  of  the  old  Russ  House 
in  San  Francisco,  where  I  had  gone  to  call  upon  a  couple  of 
friends.  This  was  in  August  after  the  close  of  the  war.  He 
was  walking  back  and  forth  in  the  library,  his  head  yet 
bandaged  where  the  Indians  had  started  to  scalp  him,  when 
he  suddenly  turned  and  said,  "Col.  Thompson,  I  want  to 
speak  to  you."  I  excused  myself  to  Rollin  P.  Saxe,  one  of 
my  friends,  and  walked  up  to  Mr.  Meacham.  He  said  "I 
had  made  up  my  mind  to  shoot  you  on  sight."  Then  hesi- 
tating an  instant,  continued,  "but  I  have  changed  my  mind." 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         119 

"Perhaps,"  I  replied,  "Mr.  Meacham,  it  is  fortunate  for 
you  or  I  that  you  have  changed  your  mind."  He  then  went 
on  to  detail  how  I  had  abused  him.  I  said,  "Mr.  Meacham, 
before  God,  you  are  responsible  for  the  death  of  Gen. 
Canby,  a  noble  man  and  soldier,  and  I  don't  know  how 
many  others."  After  conversing  some  time  we  separated, 
never  to  meet  again. 

But  to  return  to  the  war.  On  the  1 8th  Gen.  Gillem  sent 
out  Col.  Thomas  and  Major  Wright  on  a  scouting  expedi- 
tion in  the  lava  region  to  discover  if  possible  the  whereabouts 
of  the  savages.  The  scouting  party  numbered  sixty-two 
men,  including  Lieutenants  Cranston,  Harve,  and  Harris. 
Instead  of  sending  out  experienced  men,  these  men  were  sent 
to  be  slaughtered,  as  the  result  demonstrated.  Gillem  was 
not  only  incompetent  personally,  but  was  jealous  of  every 
man,  citizen  or  regular,  who  was  competent.  The  party 
scouted  around  through  the  lava  for  a  distance  of  several 
miles.  They  saw  no  Indians  or  sign  of  Indians.  The  hos- 
tiles  had  fled  and  were  nowhere  to  be  found.  They  sat 
down  to  eat  their  lunch.  They  were  quietly  surrounded  and 
at  the  first  fire  the  soldiers,  as  is  almost  always  the  case,  be- 
came panic  stricken.  The  officers  bravely  strove  to  stem  the 
tide  of  panic,  but  hopelessly.  The  panic  became  a  rout  and 
the  rout  a  massacre,  and  of  the  sixty- two  men  who  were  sent 
out  that  morning  but  two  were  alive,  and  they  were  desper- 
ately wounded. 

Had  any  one  of  the  old  experienced  officers,  like  Green, 
Mason,  Perry,  Bernard  or  Hasbrook  been  sent  on  this  duty 
a  massacre  would  have  been  impossible.  They  would  never 
have  been  caught  off  their  guard  and  the  sickening  massacre 
would  have  been  averted.  The  very  fact  of  no  Indians  in 
sight  would  have  taught  these  men  caution. 


120        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

The  entire  command  of  Gen.  Gillem  now  became  de- 
moralized, and  desertions  were  by  the  wholesale.  Gen. 
Gillem  fortified  his  camp  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff,  and  sur- 
rounded it  with  a  rock  wall.  His  communications  were  cut 
off  and  his  trains  captured  and  destroyed.  "Gillem's  Camp" 
was  a  fort  as  well  as  a  "graveyard."  Trains  of  wagons 
were  captured,  the  wagons  burned  and  the  animals  taken 
away.  The  Indians  daily  fired  on  his  picket  line. 

Such  was  the  deplorable  conditions  of  affairs  when  Gen. 
Jeff  C.  Davis  assumed  command.  Davis  was  eminently  fitted 
for  the  task  assigned  him.  He  at  once  restored  confidence 
among  the  disheartened  and  beaten  men.  He  declared  if 
there  was  to  be  more  massacres  he  would  know  who  to 
blame,  and  led  the  scouting  parties  in  person.  The  camp  at 
"Gillem's  Graveyard"  was  broken  up,  and  leaving  a  force 
to  hold  the  stronghold  he  began  scouting  and  searching  for 
the  enemy.  He  went  with  six  men  to  search  for  traces  of 
the  hostiles.  His  action  restored  confidence,  and  the  men 
manifested  a  spirit  of  fight.  Donald  McKay  and  his  Wascos 
were  sent  to  circle  the  lava  beds.  That  night  his  signal  fires 
informed  Gen.  Davis  that  the  Modocs  had  deserted  the  lava 
beds.  All  available  cavalry  were  sent  in  pursuit.  The  com- 
mand of  Capt.  Hasbrook  had  been  out  all  day,  and  was 
accompanied  by  Donald  McKay's  Indians.  Arriving  at 
Dry  Lake,  then  politely  called  Sauress  Lake,  they  found  that 
there  was  no  water.  Wells  were  dug  but  to  no  purpose,  and 
McKay  and  his  Indians  were  sent  back  to  Boyles'  camp  for 
water. 

From  Dry  Lake  to  Boyles'  camp  the  distance  was  about 
twelve  miles.  With  a  pack  train  McKay  was  in  no  hurry; 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  Donald  was  never  in  a  hurry  when  there 
was  danger  about.  He  was  an  arrant  coward,  but  had  some 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         121 

brave  men  of  the  Wascos  with  him.  I  speak  advisedly  of 
what  I  know. 

Capt.  Hasbrook's  command  went  into  camp  feeling  se- 
cure, as  the  Indians  were  in  hiding.  But  Hasbrook,  old 
soldier  as  he  was,  had  a  lesson  to  learn.  During  the  night 
a  dog,  belonging  to  the  packers,  kept  growling.  The  boss 
of  the  train,  Charley  Larengel,  went  to  the  officer  of  the 
guard  and  told  him  the  Indians  were  about  and  that  they 
would  certainly  be  attacked  at  daylight.  Mr.  Larengel  told 
me  that  the  officer  treated  his  advice  with  indifference,  not 
to  say  contempt.  The  "boss  of  the  pack  train  was  unduly 
alarmed,  there  were  no  Indians  around."  But  Charley 
Larengel  knew  a  thing  or  two.  He  had  been  with  Crook 
and  knew  that  hostiles  did  not  come  out,  shake  their  red 
blankets  and  dare  the  soldiers  to  a  fight,  so  he  barricaded 
his  camp,  using  the  apparajos  as  breast  works  and  told  the 
packers  to  "let  the  mules  go  to  the  devil.  We  must  look  out 
for  ourselves." 

Just  as  day  began  to  break  over  the  desolate  hills,  the  fun 
began.  From  three  sides  the  Indians  poured  into  the  camp 
a  withering  fire.  As  a  result  the  entire  command  became 
panic  stricken.  Seven  men  were  knocked  down,  almost  at  the 
first  fire,  and  it  has  always  been  a  matter  of  surprise  to  me 
that  Hasbrook,  old  campaigner  as  he  was,  should  be  caught 
off  his  guard.  It  began  to  look  like  another  Wright-Thomas 
massacre.  Captain  Jack  stood  well  out  of  harm's  way, 
dressed  in  the  uniform  of  Gen.  Canby,  and  giving  orders.  It 
was  surely  another  massacre. 

But  the  Modocs  had  not  seen  Donald  McKay  and  his 
Wascos  leave  the  camp  the  evening  before,  nor  were  they 
aware  that  he  was  within  striking  distance  that  morning,  at  a 
most  critical  time.  Hearing  the  firing  and  yells  McKay  left 


122         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

his  pack  animals,  and  under  the  leadership  of  Captain 
George,  chief  of  the  Wascos,  attacked  the  Modocs  in  the 
rear. 

From  a  rout  of  the  soldiers  it  became  a  rout  of  the  Mo- 
docs.  They  quickly  fled  and  Jack  was  the  first  man  to  run. 
This  brought  on  dissensions,  for  the  Hot  Creeks  claimed 
they  had  to  do  all  the  fighting,  all  the  guard  duty,  had,  in 
fact,  to  endure  all  the  hardships,  while  old  Jack  in  his  gold 
braided  uniform  stood  at  a  safe  distance  giving  orders.  Dur- 
ing the  dispute  Hooker  Jim  shot  at,  or  attempted  to  shoot 
Jack. 

The  Modocs,  or  renegades  were  now  out  of  the  lava  beds, 
and  with  soldiers  and  volunteers  practically  surrounding 
them,  and  with  dissensions  in  their  own  camp,  the  band  broke 
up.  Jack  and  his  band  went  in  a  northeast  direction,  closely 
followed  by  Hasbrook  and  McKay's  Indians,  and  two  days 
later  surrendered. 

The  Hot  Creeks  went  around  the  lower  end  of  Tule  Lake 
and  surrendered  to  Gen.  Davis  at  the  Fairchilds-Doten 
ranch.  Hooker  Jim,  followed  them  and  seeing  they  were 
not  massacred  by  the  soldiers,  determined  to  surrender.  Yet 
this  Indian,  one  of  the  worst  of  the  band  of  outlaws,  was  an 
outlaw  to  every  human  being  on  earth.  He  dared  not  go 
to  Jack's  band,  his  own  party  had  disowned  and  tried  to 
kill  him.  He  watched  the  band  from  the  bald  hills  above  the 
ranch  enter  the  camp  of  the  soldiers.  He  saw  they  were  not 
massacred.  He  then  made  up  his  mind  to  surrender.  He 
fixed  in  his  mind  the  tent  of  Gen.  Davis.  Crawling  as  close 
to  the  line  of  pickets  as  possible,  he  raised  his  gun  above  his 
head  and  yelling  "Me  Hooker  Jim,"  ran  through  the  lines, 
among  soldiers,  and  up  to  the  tent  door  of  Gen.  Davis,  threw 
down  his  gun,  and  said,  "me  Hooker  Jim,  I  give  up." 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         123 

In  speaking  of  the  surrender,  Gen.  Davis  said  to  me: 
"Here  was  a  man,  an  outlaw  to  every  human  being  on  earth, 
throwing  down  his  rifle  and  saying,  "me  Hooker  Jim,  me 
give  up."  He  stood  before  me  as  stolid  as  a  bronze.  I  have 
seen  some  grand  sights,  but  taking  everything  into  considera- 
tion, that  was  the  grandest  sight  I  ever  witnessed." 

Hasbrook  followed  relentlessly  Jack's  band  and  captured 
them  in  the  canyon  below  Steel  Swamp.  Jack  was  an  ar- 
rant coward,  but  old  Sconchin,  whose  bows  and  arrows  I  re- 
tain as  a  souvenir,  and  which  were  presented  to  me  by  a 
sergeant  of  the  troop,  was  a  fighter,  and  would  have  died 
fighting. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TRAILING  THE  FUGITIVES. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  I  was  riding  from  Salem, 
Oregon,  "Gov.  Grover's  mad-cap  Colonel,"  as  Jas.  D.  Fay, 
Harvey  Scott  of  the  Oregonian,  and  some  other  of  my 
enemies,  designated  me.  Fay  did  not  like  me  and  I  hap- 
pened to  to  be  with  Senator  Nesmith  when  he  caned  Harvey 
Scott  in  the  Chemeketa  Hotel  at  Salem.  My  meeting  with 
Senator  Nesmith  was  accidental,  but  Scott  never  forgave 
me,  nor  did  he  in  fact  neglect  any  opportunity  to  "lambaste" 
me  after  that  time. 

But  to  return  to  my  trip.  The  Oregon  volunteers  had 
been  ordered  out,  with  General  Ross  in  command.  The 
murderers  of  the  17  settlers  along  the  shores  of  Tule  Lake 
had  been  indicted  by  the  Grand  jury  of  Jackson  County, 
Oregon.  The  Governor  demanded  the  surrender  of  the 
murderers  from  the  United  States  authorities.  The  murder- 
ers were  not  yet  captured  but  we  knew  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  days.  I  left  Salem  on  Thursday  and  went  by  train  to 
Roseburg  that  evening.  There  I  took  the  stage,  and  tele- 
graphing ahead  for  horses  at  Jacksonville  found  a  magnificent 
saddle  horse  awaiting  me.  Did  you  ever  travel  from  Salem 
to  Roseburg  by  train  and  then  by  stage  to  Jacksonville 
through  the  long  weary  night? 

If  so  you  will  have  some  faint  idea  of  my  condition.  Ar- 
riving at  Jacksonville  I  lost  no  time  in  proceeding  on  my 
journey.  That  night  I  rode  to  Coldwells'  place,  sometimes 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         125 

called  the  Soda  Springs.  The  next  morning  at  4  o'clock, 
after  only  about  4  hours'  rest  in  48,  I  started  on  my  journey. 
I  knew  how  to  ride  a  horse,  how  to  save  him  and  how  to 
rest  him.  At  the  head  of  "Green  Springs"  I  met  a  Govern- 
ment courier.  He  told  me  that  Gen.  Ross  had  left  Linkville 
that  morning  with  his  entire  command. 

Thanking  the  courier,  I  then  began  to  ride,  and  at  pre- 
cisely half  past  1  1  o'clock  was  shaking  hands  with  Alex 
Miller  at  Linkville.  I  had  ridden  one  horse  55  miles  that 
morning  over  a  range  of  mountains.  Mr.  Miller  asked  me, 
"when  did  you  leave  Salem?" 

"Day  before  yesterday  noon,"  I  replied. 

"If  I  did  not  have  all  kinds  of  respect  for  you  I  would  call 
you  a  liar"  remarked  Mr.  Miller.  Just  them  J.  B.  Neil  and 
Mr.  Jackson,  District  Attorney  and  Sheriff  of  Jackson 
County  came  up,  and  showing  these  gentlemen  my  papers 
with  the  dates,  stopped  all  further  discussion  of  the  matter. 
But  I  said,  "Alex,  I  want  the  best  horse  in  Linkville,  for  I 
am  going  to  overtake  Gen.  Ross  tonight." 

"You  shall  have  not  only  the  best  horse  in  Linkville,  but 
the  best  horse  in  the  State  of  Oregon."  A  ride  of  45  miles 
that  evening  accompanied  by  Mr.  Neil  and  Mr.  Jackson, 
convinced  me  that  Alex.  Miller  told  me  the  truth.  We 
reached  the  headquarters  of  Gen.  Ross  late  in  the  night.  I 
had  ridden  that  day  95  miles  on  two  horses,  and  I  want 
here  to  plead  guilty  to  cruelty  to  animals.  The  horse  I  rode 
into  Linkville,  to  use  the  common  expression,  "quit,"  and 
the  only  means  I  could  use  to  get  a  "move  on,"  was  to  shoot 
the  tips  of  his  ears  off  with  my  revolver.  I  will  say  further 
that  this  is  the  only  instance  in  my  life  when  I  was  cruel  to 
a  dumb  brute,  but  I  justified  myself  then  and  now  on  the 
grounds  of  "DUTY." 


126        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Arriving  at  Headquarters,  "for  the  night,"  as  the  General 
expressed  it,  the  next  morning  we  took  up  the  trail  of  a  band 
of  Jack's  renegades.  Black  Jim,  one  of  the  worst  of  the 
band  of  murderers,  headed  the  band.  There  were  only 
about  twenty  men  in  the  outfit,  and  the  only  means  we  had 
of  following  them  was  by  a  crutch  used  by  an  Indian  shot 
by  John  Fairchilds  on  the  1  7th  of  January.  Late  one  even- 
ing, in  fact  just  at  sundown,  we  lost  the  trail.  We  had 
tracked  the  stick  to  a  juniper  tree,  but  there  lost  it.  Finally 
one  of  our  boys  discovered  a  hand  up  in  the  juniper  and 
leveling  his  gun,  told  him  to  come  down. 

After  some  parley  the  Indian  came  down.  Gen.  Ross 
and  I  told  him  we  were  chiefs  and  that  all  Indians  surrendet- 
ing  would  be  protected.  A  hundred  yards  away,  somewhere 
between  Tule  Lake  and  Langel  Valley,  there  was  a  rim 
rock,  and  in  this  the  Indians  were  hiding.  On  assurance  from 
our  juniper  tree  man  they  finally  surrendered.  Only  Black 
Jim  showed  any  hesitancy,  but  the  muzzle  of  a  50  caliber 
Springfield  answered  as  a  magnificent  persuader. 

We  then  returned  to  Tule  Lake,  sending  for  Mrs.  Body 
and  Mrs,  Schira  to  identify  the  murderers  of  their  families. 
We  were  still  on  the  Oregon  side  of  the  line,  but  much  to 
our  disappointment  neither  of  the  ladies  could  identify  any 
of  the  men.  We  had  Black  Jim  but  the  ladies  did  not  and 
could  not  identify  him.  We  therefore  took  them  to  the  head- 
quarters of  Gen.  Davis  and  surrendered  them  at  the  Penin- 
sula. 

We  arrived  about  1 0  o'clock.  I  went  to  the  tent  of  Gen. 
Wheaton  and  told  him  my  business.  Mr.  Neil  and  Mr. 
Jackson  were  with  me.  Gen.  Wheaton  took  us  up  to  the 
tent  of  Gen.  Davis  and  introduced  us.  I  presented  to  Gen. 
Davis  my  papers  and  told  him  that  the  officers  of  the  law 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         127 

were  there.  The  General  replied,  as  nearly  as  I  can  remem- 
ber, "Colonel,  I  will  deliver  them  to  you  at  any  time  after 
2  o'clock,  at  least,  I  will  deliver  to  you  their  bodies."  I 
simply  replied,  "that  is  entirely  satisfactory,  both  to  the  offi- 
cers present,  the  Governor  of  Oregon  and  to  your  humble 
servant." 

He  then  told  me  that  he  had  the  timbers  all  framed  and 
ready  to  put  together  and  intended  to  hang  all  the  murderers 
promptly  at  2  o'clock. 

While  we  were  talking  a  courier  arrived  with  dispatches 
from  the  Secretary  of  War  instructing  him  to  hold  the  mur- 
derers until  further  orders.  All  were  astounded,  but  a  soldier 
has  no  choice  but  to  obey  orders.  Gen.  Davis  was  angry, 
and  remarked  to  me  that  if  he  "had  any  way  of  making  a 
living  for  his  family  outside  of  the  army  he  would  resign  to- 
day." 

Mrs.  Body,  Mrs.  Schira,  Mrs.  Brotherton  were  all  there. 
Their  entire  families  had  been  wiped  out — butchered.  The 
Indians  took  a  large  amount  of  jewelry,  pictures,  and  more 
than  $4,000  in  money.  A  tent  had  been  spread  for  the 
ladies  and  Gen.  Davis  had  ordered  a  tent,  with  tables,  chairs, 
bed,  writing  material,  etc.,  arranged  for  my  convenience.  The 
correspondent  of  the  New  York  Herald  was  living  at  the 
sutler's  tent,  in  fact,  with  good  old  Pat  McManus. 

Mrs.  Body  and  Mrs.  Schira  had  also  been  provided  with 
a  tent.  They  sent  to  Gen.  Davis  and  asked  that  they  be 
permitted  to  talk  with  Black  Jim,  Hooker  Jim  and  one  or 
two  others.  They  said  that  possibly  some  of  the  family 
relics  could  be  reclaimed.  The  order  was  issued  and  the 
General  and  I  were  talking  of  the  awful  results  of  the  war 
and  its  blunders. 

Suddenly  Fox  of  the  New  York  Herald  called  at  the 


128        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

door  of  Gen.  Davis'  tent  and  said,  "the  women  are  going  to 
kill  the  Indians."  Both  of  us  sprang  from  the  tent  door  and 
rushed  to  the  tent  where  the  women  were  domiciled.  Davis 
was  ahead  of  me.  I  saw  Mrs.  Schira  with  a  double  edged 
knife  poised.  Hooker  Jim  was  standing  fronting  the  women, 
as  stolid  as  a  bronze.  Mrs.  Schira's  mother  was  attempting 
to  cock  a  revolver.  Gen.  Davis  made  a  grab  for  the  knife, 
catching  the  blade  in  his  right  hand  and  in  the  struggle  his 
hand  was  badly  lacerated.  A  surgeon  was  called  who 
dressed  the  wounded  hand,  and  then  we  all  went  to  dinner 
at  "Boyles*  mess."  At  the  dinner  table  were  seated  about 
forty  officers,  men  grown  gray  in  the  service  of  their  country 
and  young  Lieutenants  just  out  from  West  Point.  The  lat- 
ter, as  is  always  the  case,  were  in  full  uniform,  while  the  old 
fellows  wore  little  or  nothing  that  would  indicate  their  calling 
or  rank.  During  dinner  one  of  the  young  men  made  some 
slighting  remark  about  the  conduct  of  the  women  in  attempt- 
ing to  kill  the  Indians,  characterizing  their  act  as  unwarranted 
and  a  breach  of  respect  to  the  General. 

Instantly  Gen.  Davis  pushed  back  from  the  table  and  rose 
to  feet,  fire  flashing  from  his  eyes,  and  if  ever  a  young  up- 
start received  a  lecture  that  young  officer  received  one.  I 
was  sitting  to  the  left  of  Gen.  Davis  while  Jesse  Applegate, 
one  of  the  "Makers  of  Oregon,"  sat  at  his  right.  The  Gen- 
eral spoke  of  the  women  as  the  wife  and  daughter  of  a  fron- 
tiersman, and  before  whom  stood  the  bloody  handed  butcher 
of  husbands  and  sons.  It  was  one  of  the  most  eloquent,  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  most  withering  addresses  that  it  has 
ever  been  my  fortune  to  hear.  Resuming  his  seat  the  General 
continued  his  conversation  with  those  about  him,  but  there 
were  no  more  remarks,  you  may  be  assured,  upon  this 
incident. 


COL.  WILLIAM  THOMPSON 

,  From  a  photograph  at  the  close  of  the  Modoc  war 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         129 

The  next  morning  at  daylight  the  orderly  to  Gen.  Davis 
came  to  my  tent  and  awaking  me  said  that  the  General 
wanted  to  see  me  at  once.  Hastily  dressing  I  walked  over 
to  the  General's  tent.  He  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  camp 
bed,  partly  undressed.  Jas.  Fairchilds  was  sitting  in  the 
tent  talking  as  I  entered.  The  General  asked  him  to  repeat 
to  me  what  he  had  been  saying.  Mr.  Fairchilds  then  pro- 
ceeded to  relate  that  a  bunch  of  Indians,  four  bucks  and  a 
lot  of  women  and  children,  had  come  in  to  the  ranch  and 
surrendered.  He  had  loaded  them  into  a  wagon  and  started 
to  the  Peninsula  to  turn  them  over  to  the  military  authorities. 
When  within  about  six  miles  of  his  destination  he  was 
headed  off  by  two  men  who  were  disguised  past  identifica- 
tion. They  ordered  him  to  stop  and  unhitch  his  team  and 
after  doing  so  was  told  to  drive  the  horses  up  the  road.  When 
about  thirty  yards  away  he  was  ordered  to  stop.  The  men 
then  began  killing  the  Indians  while  he  stood  looking  on  and 
holding  to  his  team.  After  firing  a  dozen  shots  into  the 
wagon,  the  men  rode  away,  telling  him  to  remain  there  and 
not  to  leave.  He  remained  until  dark  and  then  mounting  one 
of  his  horses  rode  to  camp. 

While  we  were  talking  Donald  McKay  came  up  and  ac- 
cused the  volunteers  of  the  massacre.  I  told  Gen.  Davis 
that  it  was  impossible  that  the  volunteers  could  have  com- 
mitted the  crime.  McKay  was  drunk  and  swaggered  around 
a  great  deal  and  finally  asked  the  General  to  let  him  take  his 
Indians  and  follow  the  volunteers  and  bring  them  back. 

Becoming  angered  at  the  talk  and  swagger  of  McKay  I 
told  the  General  to  let  him  go,  and  plainly  told  McKay  that 
I  would  go  with  him.  That  he,  McKay,  was  an  arrant 
coward  and  could  not  take  any  one,  much  less  a  company  of 
one  hundred  men.  I  then  expressed  my  belief  to  Gen.  Davis 


130          REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

that  the  killing  had  been  done  by  some  of  the  settlers  whose 
relatives  had  been  massacred  by  the  savages;  that  Gen.  Ross 
had  gone  around  the  south  end  of  the  lake  and  that  Capt. 
Hizer  must  have  been  many  miles  on  his  road  towards 
Linkville. 

I  told  him,  however,  that  I  would  make  an  investigation 
and  if  possible  bring  the  perpetrators  of  the  act  to  justice. 
Mounting  my  horse  I  rode  rapidly  back  to  where  the  wagon 
was  standing  in  the  road.  The  women  and  children  were 
still  in  the  wagon  with  their  dead,  not  one  of  them  having 
moved  during  the  night.  It  was  a  most  ghastly  sight,  the 
blood  from  the  dead  Indians  had  run  through  the  wagon 
bed,  and  made  a  broad,  red  streak  for  twenty  yards  down 
the  road.  Soon  after  my  arrival  Donald  McKay  rode  up, 
and  I  ordered  him  to  go  to  the  lake  and  get  some  water  for 
the  women,  one  of  whom  had  been  severely  wounded.  Soon 
after  his  return  with  the  water  Mr.  Fairchilds  came  with  the 
team  and  all  were  taken  to  the  camp.  The  woman  was  not 
seriously  hurt,  but  the  four  bucks  were  literally  shot  to  pieces. 

I  remained  several  days  at  the  Peninsula,  making  an  ex- 
cursion into  the  lava  beds  in  company  with  Capt.  Bancroft 
of  the  artillery,  and  with  Bogus  Charley  as  guide.  We  ex- 
plored many  of  the  caves,  at  least  as  far  as  we  were  able  with 
poor  lighting  material  at  our  command.  I  then  started  to 
overtake  the  volunteers,  coming  up  with  them  before  reaching 
Jacksonville,  where  Capt.  Hizer's  company  was  discharged. 
Capt.  Rogers,  of  the  Douglas  county  company,  was  dis- 
charged at  Roseburg.  After  this  I  returned  to  my  news- 
paper work  at  Salem,  Oregon. 

The  Indians  were  moved  from  Boyles'  Camp  at  the  Pen- 
insula to  Fort  Klamath  where  five  of  them,  Jack,  Sconchin, 
Black  Jim,  Hooker  Jim  and  Boston  Charley  were  all  exe- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          131 

cuted  on  the  same  gallows.  One  of  the  murderers  of  the 
Peace  Commission,  "Curley  Headed  Doctor,"  committed 
suicide  on  the  road  to  Klamath.  The  remainder  of  the  In- 
dians were  then  moved  to  the  Indian  Territory,  where  the 
»emnants  now  live. 

Thus  ended  the  farce-tragedy  of  the  Modoc  war,  a  farce 
so  far  as  misguided  enthusiasts  and  mock  humanitarians 
could  make  it  in  extending  the  olive  branch  of  peace  to  red- 
handed  murderers.  And  a  tragedy,  in  that  from  first  to  last 
the  war  had  cost  the  lives  of  nearly  four  hundred  men  and 
about  five  millions  of  dollars. 

The  foregoing  pages  describe  in  simple  language  what  I 
saw  of  the  Modoc  war.  Several  so-called  histories  have  been 
written  purporting  to  be  true  histories.  One  by  A.  B. 
Meacham  in  his  "Wigwam  and  Warpath."  Meacham  wrote 
with  the  view  of  justifying  all  that  Meacham  did  and  said. 
It  was,  in  fact,  written  in  self  defense.  Another,  by  one 
"Captain  Drehan,"  who  claimed  to  have  been  "Chief  of 
Scouts."  The  gallant  Captain  was  simply  a  monumental 
romancer.  No  such  man  served  at  any  time  during  the  war. 
Donald  McKay  was  chief  of  scouts,  and  the  exploits  of 
Drehan  existed  only  in  his  own  imagination.  I  was  personally 
acquainted  with  all  the  officers  and  know  that  no  such  man 
was  there.  For  the  truth  of  all  I  have  said  I  simply  refer 
the  Doubting  Thomases  to  the  official  reports  on  file  at 
Washington. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  GREAT   BANNOCK  WAR. 

The  last  Indian  war  worthy  of  mention  broke  out  in  the 
spring  of  1877.  It  was  preceded  by  none  of  the  acts  of 
outlawry  which  usually  are  a  prelude  to  savage  outbreaks. 
There  were  none  of  the  rumblings  of  the  coming  storm  which 
are  almost  invariable  accompaniments  of  these  upheavals. 
Indeed,  it  came  with  the  suddenness  of  a  great  conflagration, 
and  before  the  scattered  settlers  of  western  Idaho  and  east- 
ern Oregon  were  aware  of  danger,  from  a  thousand  to  twelve 
hundred  plumed  and  mounted  warriors  were  sweeping  the 
country  with  the  fierceness  of  a  cyclone. 

As  a  rule  the  young  and  impatient  warriors,  thirsting  for 
blood,  fame  and  the  property  of  the  white  man,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  scalps,  begin  to  commit  acts  of  outlawry  before  the 
plans  of  older  heads  are  ripe  for  execution.  These  acts  con- 
sist of  petty  depredations,  the  stealing  of  horses,  killing  of 
stock,  and  occasional  murder  of  white  men  for  arms  and 
ammunition.  But  in  the  case  of  the  great  Shoshone,  or  Ban- 
nock, outbreak,  there  were  none  of  these  signs  of  the  coming 
storm.  Settlers  were  therefore  taken  completely  by  surprise. 
Many  were  murdered,  their  property  stolen  or  destroyed, 
while  others  escaped  as  best  they  could. 

From  observation  and  experience  I  make  the  assertion  that 
nine  of  every  ten  Indian  outbreaks  are  fomented  by  the 
"Medicine"  men.  These  men  are  at  the  same  time  both 
priest  and  doctor.  They  not  only  ward  off  the  "bad  spirits," 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        133 

and  cure  the  sick,  but  they  forecast  events.  They  deal  out 
"good  medicine,"  to  ward  off  the  bullets  of  the  white  man, 
and  by  jugglery  and  by  working  upon  the  superstitions  of 
their  followers,  impress  them  with  the  belief  that  they  pos- 
sess supernatural  powers. 

This  was  especially  conspicuous  in  the  Pine  Ridge  out- 
break. The  medicine  men  made  their  deluded  followers  be- 
lieve the  white  men  were  all  to  be  killed,  that  the  cattle  were 
to  be  turned  to  buffalo  and  that  the  red  man  would  again 
possess  the  country  as  their  fathers  had  possessed  it  in  the 
long  ago,  and  that  all  the  dead  and  buried  warriors  were  to 
return  to  life.  This  doctrine  was  preached  from  the  borders 
of  Colorado  and  the  Dakotas  to  the  Pacific,  and  from  British 
Columbia  to  the  grottoes  of  the  Gila.  The  doctrine  proba- 
bly had  its  origin  in  the  ignorant  preaching  of  the  religion  of 
the  Savior  by  honest  but  ignorant  Indian  converts.  They 
told  their  hearers  of  the  death,  burial  and  resurrection  of  the 
Son  of  Man.  The  medicine  men  seized  upon  the  idea  and 
preached  a  new  religion  and  a  new  future  for  the  red  man. 
Missionaries  were  sent  from  tribe  to  tribe  to  preach  and 
teach  the  new  doctrine,  and  everywhere  found  willing 
converts. 

The  craze  started  in  Nevada,  among  the  Shoshones,  and 
in  a  remarkably  short  time  spread  throughout  the  tribes  on 
both  sides  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Lieutenant  Strothers 
of  the  United  States  Army  and  I  talked  with  Piute  Indians 
in  Modoc  County,  after  the  "ghost  dance"  scare  had  sub- 
sided, who  were  firm  in  the  belief  that  a  chief  of  the  Piutes 
died  and  then  came  back.  They  assured  us  that  they  had 
talked  with  a  man  who  had  seen  him,  and  that  there  could 
be  no  mistake.  But  they  said:  "Maybe  so;  he  did  not 
know.  The  white  man  medicine  heap  too  strong  for  Ingin." 


134         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

So  it  was  with  the  Bannocks.  Their  medicine  men  taught 
that  the  white  man  was  to  be  destroyed,  that  his  horses,  his 
cattle  and  his  houses  and  land  were  to  revert  to  the  original 
owners  of  the  country.  Accordingly  few  houses  were  burned 
throughout  the  raid  of  several  hundred  miles.  Even  the 
fences  around  the  fields  were  not  destroyed,  but  were  left  to 
serve  their  purposes  when  the  hated  white  man  should  be 
no  more.  The  few  exceptions  were  where  white  men  were 
caught  in  their  homes  and  it  was  necessary  to  burn  the  build- 
ings in  order  to  kill  the  owners.  The  home  of  old  man 
Smith  in  Happy  Valley,  on  the  north  side  of  Stein  Moun- 
tain, the  French  ranch  in  Harney  and  the  Cummins  ranch 
on  the  John  Day  were  exceptions.  In  the  fights  at  these 
places  some  of  the  Indians  were  killed  and  the  houses  were 
burned  out  of  revenge.  With  characteristic  Indian  wan- 
tonness and  wastefulness  hundreds  of  cattle  were  shot  down, 
only  the  tongue  being  taken  out  for  food.  They,  however, 
would  come  back  as  buffalo  and  cover  the  land  with  plenty. 
But  horses  were  everywhere  taken,  and  when  that  armed, 
mounted  and  tufted  host  debouched  into  Harney  Valley  they 
had  a  mighty  herd  of  from  seven  to  ten  thousand  horses. 

The  Bannocks,  under  their  noted  chief,  Buffalo  Horn, 
left  their  reservation  in  Idaho  and  at  once  began  the  work 
of  murder  and  plunder.  Buffalo  Horn  had  served  under 
Howard  during  a  portion  of  the  Nez  Perce  war,  but  left 
him  because  of  his  dilatory  tactics  and  his  refusal  to  attack 
when  he  had  the  enemy  at  his  mercy.  He  told  Col.  Red- 
dington.  who  was  following  Howard  as  correspondent  of 
the  Oregonian  and  New  York  Herald,  that  Howard  did  not 
know  how  to  fight,  that  next  summer  he  would  fight  and 
show  him  how  to  make  war. 

About  the  same  time,  the  Shoshones,  under  Egan  and 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         135 

Otis,  left  their  reservation  and  united  their  forces  in  Harney 
Valley,  numbering  at  that  time  from  a  thousand  to  twelve 
hundred  warriors.  They  were  encumbered,  however,  by 
their  women  and  children  and  a  vast  herd  of  stock,  and  as  a 
result  moved  slowly.  Meantime  the  scattered  detachments 
of  troops  were  being  concentrated  and  sent  in  pursuit.  But 
while  this  was  being  done  the  tufted  host  swept  a  belt  thirty 
miles  wide  through  western  Idaho  and  eastern  Oregon, 
spreading  death  and  destruction  in  its  path.  At  Happy  Val- 
ley they  killed  old  man  Smith  and  his  son.  Both  had 
escaped  with  their  families  to  Camp  Harney,  but  had 
imprudently  returned  to  gather  up  their  horses  and  bring 
away  a  few  household  effects.  Another  brother  and  a  young 
man  had  accompanied  them,  but  had  turned  aside  to  look 
for  stock.  The  two  young  men  arrived  at  the  ranch  after 
nightfall.  It  was  very  dark,  and  before  they  were  aware  of 
the  fact  they  rode  into  a  herd  of  horses.  But  supposing  they 
were  animals  gathered  by  the  father  and  brother,  rode  on. 
When  near  the  center  a  mighty  wail  smote  their  ears.  Some 
of  the  Indians  had  been  killed  by  the  Smiths,  and  the  women 
were  wailing  a  funeral  dirge.  One  who  has  never  heard  that 
wail  cannot  imagine  its  rhythmic  terrors. 

When  the  appalling  noise  broke  upon  their  ears  the  young 
man  with  Smith  started  to  wheel  his  horse  and  flee.  But 
Smith  caught  the  bridle  reins  and  whispered  to  him,  "For 
God's  sake  don't  run,"  and,  holding  to  the  reins,  quietly 
rode  out  of  the  herd,  the  darkness  of  the  night  alone  proving 
their  salvation. 

At  the  French  ranch  on  Blixen  River  an  attack  was  made 
by  a  detached  war  party,  but  Mr.  French  saved  himself  and 
men  by  cool  daring  and  steady  bravery.  All  were  endeav- 
oring to  make  their  escape,  French  holding  the  Indians  at  bay 


136         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

while  the  others  fled  along  the  road.  He  was  the  only  man 
armed  in  the  crowd,  and  at  turns  in  the  road  would  make  a 
stand,  checking  for  a  time  the  savages.  The  Chinese  cook 
was  killed  and  left  where  he  fell,  being  horribly  mutilated 
by  the  Indians.  Most  of  the  men  with  French  were  in 
wagons,  and  only  for  the  bravery  displayed  by  him  would 
certainly  have  been  killed. 

About  the  same  time  two  men  were  coming  out  with 
teams,  and  hearing  of  the  Indian  raid,  left  their  wagons  and 
fled  to  the  Shirk  ranch  in  Callow  Valley.  After  a  few  days 
they  returned  for  their  wagons,  being  accompanied  by  W.  H. 
Shirk,  now  a  banker  at  Lakeview,  Oregon.  The  wagons 
were  found  as  left,  and  after  hitching  up  the  horses,  Mr. 
Shirk  rode  on  ahead,  imprudently  leaving  his  rifle  in  one  of 
the  wagons.  On  the  grade  above  the  Blixen  ranch  Shirk 
looked  back  and  saw  the  men  coming  and  had  little  thought 
of  danger.  The  men  drove  up  to  the  crossing,  when  they 
were  fired  upon  and  both  killed.  Mr.  Shirk  was  also  fired 
upon,  but  miraculously  escaped  death.  An  Indian  on  a  fleet 
horse  was  pursuing  him,  and  his  own  horse  was  lagging.  As 
he  neared  the  sage  brush  toward  which  he  had  been  making, 
Mr.  Shirk  looked  back  and  to  his  relief  saw  the  Indian  off 
his  horse.  He  thinks  the  horse  fell  with  the  Indian,  but 
they  pursued  him  no  farther  and  he  made  good  his  escape. 
Many  other  miraculous  escapes  were  made  by  both  men  and 
women,  some  of  the  latter  escaping  almost  in  their  night 
clothes  and  on  barebacked  horses. 

During  all  this  time  the  scattered  forces  of  the  department 
were  being  concentrated  and  sent  in  pursuit.  That  indomit- 
able old  Scotch  hero  and  Indian  fighter,  Bernard — who  had 
risen  from  a  government  blacksmith  to  the  rank  of  Colonel 
of  cavalry — who  believed  that  the  best  way  to  subdue  In- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         137 

dians  was  to  fight  and  kill  them  and  not  to  run  them  to 
death — was  following  with  four  companies  of  cavalry,  num- 
bering 1 36  men.  Behind  him  was  Gen.  Howard,  with  400 
infantry,  but  with  his  ox  teams  and  dilatory  tactics  man- 
aged to  herd  them  two  days  ahead.  As  the  cavalry  under 
Bernard  drew  near,  the  Indians  called  in  all  detached  par- 
ties and  concentrated  their  forces.  On  the  7th  of  June  Pete 
French  joined  Bernard  with  65  ranchers  and  cowboys. 

Bernard  had  been  ordered  by  Gen.  Howard  not  to  attack, 
but  to  wait  until  he  came  up.  At  old  Camp  Curry,  on  the 
western  side  of  Harney  Valley,  or  more  properly  speaking, 
on  Silver  Creek,  on  the  evening  of  the  7th,  Bernard's  scouts 
reported  the  Indians  encamped  in  the  valley,  at  the  Baker 
ranch,  seven  miles  away.  In  spite  of  orders,  Bernard,  always 
spoiling  for  a  fight,  determined  to  make  the  attack  at  day- 
light. His  four  companies  numbered  1 36  men,  besides 
French's  volunteers.  Bernard  had  no  confidence  in  the 
French  contingent  and  declined  to  permit  them  to  accompany 
his  command  in  the  attack.  He  directed  French,  however, 
to  make  a  dash  for  the  horse  herd  and  if  possible  capture  the 
animals,  while  with  his  regulars  he  would  charge  the  main 
camp.  Bernard  afterwards,  in  explanation  of  his  disobe- 
dience of  orders,  claimed  that  he  was  misled  by  his  scouts. 

Bernard  broke  camp  two  hours  before  daylight,  or  about 
two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  He  reached  the  camp  just  at 
break  of  day.  Evidently  the  Indians  were  not  prepared  for 
him,  and  "Little  Bearskin  Dick,"  one  of  the  chiefs,  rode 
out  with  a  white  flag  in  his  hand.  Bernard  had  already 
made  a  talk  to  his  men,  especially  to  the  recruits,  telling  them 
they  might  as  well  be  killed  by  the  Indians  as  by  him,  as  he 
would  kill  the  first  man  that  flinched.  As  Dick  rode  up, 
Bernard  spoke  to  a  sargeant  and  asked  him  if  he  was  going 


138         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

to  "let  the  black  rascal  ride  over  him."  Instantly  several 
carbines  rang  out  and  "Little  Bearskin  Dick"  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  was  a  "good  Indian." 

At  the  same  instant  the  bugle  sounded  the  charge,  and 
the  troops  bore  down  upon  the  encampment,  firing  their  rifles 
first  and  then  drawing  their  revolvers  and  firing  as  they 
swept  through  the  great  camp.  But  Bernard  had  not  been 
fully  informed  regarding  the  lay  of  the  camp.  After  sweep- 
ing through  he  discovered  to  his  dismay  that  the  Indians  were 
encamped  on  the  margin  of  an  impenetrable  swamp — in  a 
semi-circle,  as  it  were,  and  he  could  go  no  farther.  Nothing 
dismayed,  the  column  wheeled  and  rode  helter-skelter  back 
the  road  they  had  come,  this  time  his  men  using  their  sabres. 
When  clear  of  the  camp  Bernard  turned  his  attention  to  the 
men  under  Pete  French.  The  latter  had  gotten  into  a  "hot 
box,"  two  of  his  men  had  been  killed  and  one  or  two 
wounded  and  required  help.  Bernard  was  not  slow  in  giving 
it,  and  when  all  were  safely  joined,  Bernard  dismounted  his 
men  and  fought  the  Indians  for  several  hours  with  his  car- 
bines. 

The  loss  sustained  by  Bernard  in  the  charge  and  subse- 
quent engagement  was  four  men  killed  and  several  wounded, 
not  counting  the  loss  sustained  by  French.  Bernard  contin- 
ued to  hover  near  the  Indians  throughout  the  day.  He  had 
taught  them  a  lesson  they  would  not  forget.  Those  terrible 
troopers  on  open  ground,  they  discovered,  could  go  where 
they  liked,  and  that  nothing  could  stop  them.  Accordingly 
toward  night  they  withdrew  to  a  rim  rock,  protected  on  three 
sides  by  high  perpendicular  walls.  The  neck  of  their  fort 
was  then  fortified  and  the  savages  felt  they  could  bid  defiance 
to  the  fierce  troopers.  In  this  fight  the  Indians  lost  heavily, 
forty-two  bodies  being  pulled  out  of  a  crevice  in  the  rim  rock 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         139 

where  they  had  been  concealed.  Among  this  number  was 
Buffalo  Horn,  the  greatest  leader  of  the  hostiles. 

Toward  evening  Gen.  Howard  arrived  within  seven  miles 
of  the  hostiles.  Bernard  sent  a  courier  telling  of  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Indians  and  that  with  reinforcements  and  how- 
itzers under  Howard  the  surrender  could  be  forced  in  a  few 
hours,  or  days  at  most.  They  had  entrapped  themselves,  and 
without  water  must  surrender  at  the  discretion  of  the  soldiers. 
Gen.  Howard,  however,  complained  that  his  troops  were 
worn  out,  that  he  could  not  come  up  until  the  following  day, 
and  ended  by  ordering  the  command  under  Bernard  to  re- 
turn to  his  camp.  This  was  Gen.  Howard's  first  fatal  blun- 
der, to  be  followed  by  others  equally  as  serious.  The  In- 
dians remained  in  their  position  until  the  next  day,  when  they 
moved  out  towards  the  head  of  the  South  Fork  of  the  John 
Day  River.  They  camped  on  Buck  Mountain  three  days 
while  Howard  was  resting  his  troops.  They  then  moved  out 
leisurely  to  the  north,  keeping  in  the  rough  mountains  to  be 
out  of  the  reach  of  Bernard's  terrible  cavalry. 

Meanwhile  Gen.  Howard  followed,  keeping  pace  with 
the  Indians.  His  men  were  mostly  employed  in  grading 
roads  through  the  rough,  broken  country  to  enable  his  ox 
teams  to  follow.  Some  have  questioned  this  statement.  But 
I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  the  road  down  Swamp  Creek  and 
the  mountain  road  leading  down  to  the  South  John  Day 
River,  seven  miles  south  of  the  mouth  of  Murderer's  Creek. 
At  the  South  John  Day  crossing  he  again  laid  over  three  days 
while  the  Indians  were  resting  at  the  Stewart  ranch,  seven 
miles  away.  Think  of  an  army  following  a  horde  of  In- 
dians through  one  of  the  roughest  countries  imaginable!  No 
wonder  that  the  fiery  Bernard  hovered  close  up  to  them, 
ready  to  strike  when  opportunity  and  an  excuse  for  disobey- 
ing orders  was  presented. 


140        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Rumors  of  the  coming  of  the  Indians  had  reached  John 
Day  Valley,  and  my  old  friend  Jim  Clark  gathered  a  force 
of  26  men  and  started  out  to  discover,  if  possible,  which  way 
the  Indians  were  heading.  At  Murderer's  Creek  he  ran 
into  them  almost  before  he  knew  it.  They  were  not  the 
skulking  Indians  of  former  years,  armed  with  bows  and 
arrows,  but  fierce,  wild  horsemen,  armed  with  modern  wea- 
pons. In  a  running  fight  that  followed,  a  young  man  named 
Aldrige  was  killed  and  Jim  Clark's  horse  shot  from  under 
him.  He  escaped  into  the  brush  and  defended  himself  so 
successfully,  more  than  one  of  the  redskins  biting  the  dust, 
that  when  night  closed  in  he  made  his  way  on  foot  through 
the  brush  to  the  river  and  followed  the  stream  all  night,  wad- 
ing and  swimming  it  twenty-six  times.  The  balance  of  his 
command  escaped  by  outrunning  their  pursuers  and  all 
reached  the  valley  in  safety. 

As  soon  as  the  news  spread,  the  women  and  childien  were 
sent  to  Canyon  City  and  something  over  a  hundred  men  gath- 
ered at  the  ranch  of  a  man  named  Cummins.  The  latter  had 
seen  some  service  and  was  elected  captain.  Some  were 
horseback  and  others  had  come  in  wagons.  While  the  men 
were  making  final  preparations  for  starting  out  in  search  of 
Jim  Clark,  a  horseman  was  seen  riding  along  the  side  of  the 
mountain  to  the  east  of  the  Cummins  ranch.  Warren  Cass- 
ner  pointed  to  the  horseman  and  asked  Cummins  what  it 
meant.  "Oh,  I  guess  it  is  a  sheep  herder,"  replied  the  old 
man.  "A  queer  looking  sheep  herder,"  replied  Cassner,  and 
mounting  his  horse  started  out  to  make  an  investigation. 
West  of  the  Cummins  house  the  river  was  lined  with  tall  cot- 
tonwoods  which  obscured  a  view  of  the  bald  mountain  side 
beyond.  As  Cassner  raised  the  side  ©f  the  mountain,  en- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          141 

abling  him  to  look  over  and  beyond  the  cottonwoods,  he 
discovered  that  the  whole  mountain  side  was  covered  with 
Indians.  Twelve  hundred  Indians  and  eight  thousand  head 
of  horses  blackened  the  side  of  the  slope.  He  called  to  the 
men  below  to  get  out.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  a  party  of 
Indians  cutting  him  off  from  his  men. 

Then  began  a  race  seldom  witnessed  in  Indian  or  any 
other  kind  of  warfare.  Men  on  horseback  fled  for  dear 
life,  while  others  piled  into  wagons  and  followed  as  fast  as 
teams  could  travel.  But  Cummins  was  a  brave  man  and 
had  a  cool  head.  He  succeeded  in  rallying  a  half  dozen 
horsemen  and  at  points  on  the  road  made  such  a  determined 
stand  that  the  wagons  were  enabled  to  escape.  At  one  point 
Emil  Scheutz  was  standing  by  the  side  of  Cummins,  when 
some  Indians  that  had  worked  around  to  the  side  fired  a 
volley,  one  of  the  bullets  ripping  a  trench  in  Scheutz's  breast 
that  one  could  lay  his  arm  into.  Scheutz  staggered  and  told 
Cummins  he  was  shot.  The  latter  helped  him  to  mount  his 
horse  and  amid  a  rain  of  bullets  fled  for  life.  That  was  the 
last  stand.  But  only  for  the  fact  that  Bernard  had  followed 
the  Indians  closely,  preventing  them  from  scattering,  all 
would  have  been  massacreed.  As  it  was  most  of  the  men 
kept  running  until  Canyon  City  was  reached,  each  imagining 
the  fellow  behind  an  Indian. 

At  the  Cassner  ranch  many  halted  and  were  that  evening 
joined  by  Col.  Bernard  with  his  cavalry.  Bernard  was  told 
that  there  were  six  hundred  Umatilla  Indians  at  Fox  Valley 
only  a  few  miles  from  the  John  Day  River,  and  knowing 
that  they  were  only  waiting  to  be  joined  by  the  Bannocks, 
determined  to  attack  the  latter  before  reaching  them.  He 
was  told  that  the  Bannock's  must  pass  through  a  canyon  to 
reach  Fox  Valley.  That  was  his  opportunity,  and  he  had 


142         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

sounded  "boots  and  saddles"  when  Gen.  Howard,  sur- 
rounded by  a  strong  body  guard,  rode  up  and  ordered  him 
to  remain  where  he  was.  This  was  an  awful  blunder,  and 
cost  the  lives  of  a  number  of  settlers  in  Fox  Valley.  They, 
all  unconscious  of  danger,  were  resting  in  fancied  security 
when  the  Bannocks  arrived,  fraternized  with  the  Umatillas 
and  butchered  them  in  cold  blood. 

But  Gen.  Howard  had  made  a  still  more  serious  blunder. 
Gen.  Grover  was  coming  into  John  Day  Valley  with  400 
troops  and  had  reached  Prairie  City,  south  of  Canyon  City, 
and  about  45  miles  from  the  Cummins  Ranch.  He  was 
coming  in  ahead  of  the  Indians  and  would  have  been  in  a 
position,  with  the  troops  under  Howard,  to  surround  and 
destroy  the  savages.  He  was,  however,  halted  by  orders 
from  Howard  and  turned  back  to  the  Malheur  Reservation. 
In  justice  to  Gen.  Howard  it  should  be  said  that  he  claimed 
his  aide  misunderstood  the  orders,  and  caused  the  fatal 
blunder.  But  be  that  as  it  may,  it  saved  the  savages  from 
annihilation  or  surrender  and  cost  the  lives  of  a  large  number 
of  citizens  throughout  eastern  Oregon. 

From  John  Day  Valley,  Gen.  Howard  continued  to  herd 
the  savages,  following  with  his  ox  teams  and  his  army  of 
road  makers,  while  the  enemy  were  sweeping  a  belt  thirty 
miles  in  width  through  the  State  and  spreading  death  and 
desolation  in  their  path.  Many  skirmishes  took  place  before 
the  Indians  reached  the  Umatilla  Reservation.  Here  Gen. 
Miles  encountered  them  and  in  the  battle  that  followed  com- 
pletely routed  them.  Disheartened  and  losing  confidence 
in  the  good  medicine  of  their  medicine  men,  the  savages  split 
up,  a  portion  going  on  to  Snake  River  and  the  Columbia, 
while  the  Stein's  mountain  and  Nevada  Piutes  doubled  on 
their  tracks  and  started  back,  for  a  greater  portion  of  the 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        143 

way  over  the  road  they  had  come.  This  again  left  the  set- 
tlers exposed  to  butchery  and  plunder.  The  military  had 
followed  the  main  bands  towards  the  Columbia  and  Snake 
Rivers.  One  band  attempted  to  cross  the  Columbia  by 
swimming  their  stock.  A  steamer  had  been  despatched  up 
the  river  armed  with  gattling  guns  and  protected  by  a  force 
of  soldiers.  While  the  vast  herd  of  horses  and  Indians  were 
struggling  in  the  water  the  boat  came  in  sight  and  opened 
with  the  gatlings.  Some  of  the  Indians  succeeded  in  cross- 
ing, but  most  of  them  were  driven  back,  and  the  carcasses 
of  Indians  and  horses  floated  down  the  river. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

SNAKE  UPRISING  IN  EASTERN  OREGON. 

While  these  events  were  transpiring  all  eastern  Oregon 
was  wild  with  excitement.  There  were  no  telegraphs  through 
the  country  in  those  days,  if  we  except  a  line  running  up  the 
Columbia  from  The  Dalles  to  Pendleton  and  Walla  Walla. 
The  wildest  stories  were  set  afloat,  which  of  course  lost 
nothing  by  repetition. 

When  the  first  news  of  the  outbreak  reached  me  I  was 
doing  jury  duty  in  Judge  L.  L.  McArthur's  Court  at  The 
Dalles.  I  was  engaged  in  the  cattle  business  in  what  is  now 
Crook  County,  and  my  ranch  was  95  miles  to  the  south  of 
The  Dalles.  My  family  had  been  left  on  the  ranch  which 
was  being  cared  for  by  a  couple  of  young  men  in  my  em- 
ploy. My  brother,  Senator  S.  G.  Thompson  also  lived  a 
couple  of  miles  from  my  ranch. 

On  coming  down  stairs  at  the  Umatilla  House  one  morn- 
ing I  met  Judge  McArthur  who  expressed  surprise  at  finding 
me  yet  in  town,  saying  he  supposed  I  and  my  friends  were 
well  on  our  way  home.  I  replied  that  I  was  waiting  the  good 
pleasure  of  the  Court. 

"Why,  man,  have  you  not  heard  the  news?"  replied  the 
Judge. 

"I  have  heard  no  news,"  I  replied,  but  seeing  that  the 
Judge  was  in  earnest  asked  to  what  news  he  referred. 

Judge  McArthur  then  told  me  in  a  few  excited  words  of 
the  outbreak  of  the  Bannocks,  declaring  that  in  all  probabil- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         145 

ity  the  Indians  would  reach  my  section  before  I  could  get 
there. 

I  waited  to  hear  no  more,  and  running  across  the  street 
to  the  livery  stable  ordered  my  team  harnessed.  While  I 
was  waiting  three  young  men,  one  of  them  being  a  lawyer 
named  G.  W.  Barnes,  and  with  whom  I  had  come  to  The 
Dalles  in  a  two-seated  rig,  came  up.  While  the  team  was 
being  harnessed  we  secured  from  a  store  several  hundred 
rounds  of  Winchester  ammunition,  besides  a  couple  of  needle 
guns  and  some  ammunition  which  we  borrowed.  One  of  my 
friends  ran  across  to  the  hotel  and  returned  with  some  pro- 
visions for  breakfast.  We  had  no  time  to  wait.  Other 
thoughts  occupied  our  minds.  We  then  began  the  home 
run,  ninety-six  miles  away.  I  insisted  on  driving  and  nursed 
the  team  as  best  I  could,  giving  them  plenty  of  time  on  the 
uphill  grade,  but  sending  them  along  at  a  furious  pace  on 
level  ground  and  down  hill.  From  The  Dalles  to  Shear's 
bridge  on  the  Deschutes  we  made  a  record  run.  There  we 
changed  horses,  the  generous  owner  returning  not  a  word 
when  our  urgent  errand  was  told.  Mrs.  Shear  also  kindly 
gave  us  some  food  to  eat  on  the  road.  By  1  o'clock  we 
•were  at  Bakeoven,  45  miles  from  The  Dalles.  Here  we 
again  changed  horses,  and  secured  some  food,  which  we 
literally  ate  on  the  run. 

Our  next  lap  was  a  long  one  and  it  was  necessary  to  save 
our  horses  as  much  as  possible.  But  we  had  a  good  team 
and  made  good  progress,  and  when  night  closed  in  we  were 
more  than  25  miles  from  home.  We  finally  reached  the 
ranch  of  old  man  Crisp,  whose  son  was  most  savagely 
butchered  a  few  days  later  by  the  Indians  at  Fox  Valley. 

My  ranch  was  reached  about  midnight,  possibly  a  little 
later,  and  I  found,  to  my  inexpressible  relief,  that  all  was 


146         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

well.  My  wife  hastily  prepared  a  cup  of  coffee  for  my  com- 
panions and  set  them  a  lunch.  While  they  were  eating  the 
young  men  harnessed  up  another  team,  with  which  Mr. 
Barnes  and  companions  reached  Prineville  some  time  after 
daylight. 

Almost  the  first  word  spoken  by  my  wife  to  me  after  I 
had  asked  the  news,  was  that  Capt.  George,  Chief  of  the 
Warm  Spring  Indians,  had  been  there  and  enquiring  for  me. 
I  asked  her  where  he  had  gone.  She  replied  that  he  had 
come  there  in  the  evening,  and  she  had  ordered  supper  for 
him  and  that  he  had  put  up  his  horse  and  was  sleeping  at  the 
barn.  The  news  was  a  relief  to  me,  you  may  be  sure. 

After  my  friends  had  gone  and  while  my  wife  and  I  were 
discussing  the  news,  George  walked  in.  He  shook  hands 
with  me  and  I  gave  him  a  seat.  I  knew  he  had  news  for 
me.  But  an  Indian  always  takes  his  time.  After  he  had 
sat  for  some  time,  and  consumed  with  anxiety  to  know  the 
nature  of  his  visit,  I  said: 

"Well,  George,  what  is  it?" 

"Have  you  heard  about  the  Snakes,"  was  his  instant 
answer. 

"Yes,  I  heard  about  it  at  The  Dalles,  and  that  was  what 
brought  me  home.  But  what  do  you  think  about  it?" 

"I  do  not  believe  the  Snakes  will  come  this  way,  but  if 
they  do  I  will  know  it  in  plenty  of  time.  I  will  then  bring 
lots  of  Indians  over  from  the  reservation,  we  will  gather  up 
your  horses,  all  of  Georges'  horses  and  all  of  Maupin's 
horses  and  will  take  them  and  all  the  women  and  children  to 
the  reservation  and  then  we  will  go  out  and  fight  Snakes  and 
steal  horses." 

That  was  George's  idea  of  war.  It  mattered  not  to  him 
if  everybody  else  was  killed,  so  long  as  the  property  and 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         147 

families  of  his  friends  were  safe.  The  conversation,  of 
course,  was  carried  on  in  the  Chinook  langauge,  which  is  a 
mixture  of  the  Wasco  tongue  and  Hudson  Bay  French. 

Captain  George  was,  as  I  have  stated,  Chief  of  the  Warm 
Spring  and  Wasco  Indians.  He  was  one  of  the  most  perfect 
specimens  of  physical  manhood  I  have  ever  beheld.  He  was 
proud  as  Lucifer  and  would  scorn  to  tell  a  lie.  In  fact,  he 
was  one  of  the  really  good  live  Indians  I  have  known.  Years 
after,  when  residing  at  Prineville,  my  front  yard  was  the 
favorite  camping  place  of  Capt.  George,  and  my  stables 
were  always  open  for  the  accommodation  of  his  horses.  He 
was  my  friend,  and  as  he  expressed  it,  "we  are  chiefs." 

Poor  old  George!  He  has  long  since  been  gathered  to 
his  fathers.  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  meet  George  in  the 
happy  hunting  grounds.  But  this  I  know,  I  will  meet  no 
truer  friend  or  braver  or  nobler  soul  than  that  of  this  brave 
old  Indian. 

The  next  morning  after  my  arrival  at  home  George  went 
up  to  see  my  brother,  and  from  there  went  on  to  the  ranch 
of  Mr.  Maupin.  So  far  as  I  was  concerned,  after  my  talk 
with  George,  I  felt  perfectly  at  ease.  I  knew  he  would  do 
as  he  had  promised.  But  the  whole  country  was  in  panic 
and  it  could  not  be  stayed.  Some  had  abandoned  their 
farms  and  fled  across  the  mountains  to  the  Willamette  Val- 
ley, while  others  were  getting  ready  to  go.  I  allayed  the 
fears  of  immediate  neighbors  as  far  as  possible  by  selecting 
the  ranch  of  Dr.  Baldwin  as  a  rallying  point  in  case  of 
danger.  But  each  hour,  almost,  would  bring  a  new  story 
of  danger  and  a  new  cause  for  a  stampede.  Some  of  my 
neighbors  buried  their  effects  and  prepared  to  flee.  In  the 
midst  of  this  word  reached  me  one  afternoon  that  the  people 
at  Prineville  were  forting  up,  and  that  a  company  had  been 


148         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

organized  to  go  out  to  meet  the  Indians.  Mounting  good 
horses  my  brother  and  I  set  out  for  Prineville,  nearly  thirty 
miles  away.  'We  arrived  there  about  dark  after  a  hard 
ride,  but  it  did  not  take  me  long  to  size  up  the  situation. 
The  "company"  was  worse  panic  stricken  than  the  people,  and 
the  fort  that  had  been  started  was  worse  than  a  trap.  It 
was  absolutely  worthless  for  defense.  Everything,  how- 
ever, was  confusion  and  one  scare  followed  another  in  rapid 
succession. 

I  tried  to  get  a  few  men  to  go  with  me  on  a  short  scouting 
expedition  to  discover  if  the  Indians  were  coming  that  way. 
Not  one  could  be  found  who  would  volunteer  to  go.  I  then 
returned  home  and  taking  one  of  my  young  men  and  a 
younger  brother,  struck  out  for  the  old  Indian  trail  leading 
along  the  crest  of  the  McKay  Mountains.  After  riding 
some  distance,  keeping  well  in  the  timber,  we  met  two 
white  men  who  were  making  their  way  through  the  moun- 
tains. They  told  us  that  the  Indians  had  crossed  the  John 
Day  at  the  Cummins  ranch,  of  the  fight  Jim  Clark  had  at 
Murderers  Creek  and  the  death  of  young  Aldridge.  As  it 
was  now  useless  to  proceed  any  further  we  turned  back,  and 
reached  Prineville  next  day.  All  the  ranches  were  deserted, 
but  we  had  no  difficulty  in  obtaining  food  for  ourselves  and 
horses. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

BANNOCKS  DOUBLE  ON  THEIR  TRACKS. 

Matters  now  settled  down,  the  scare  was  over  and 
ranchers  returned  to  their  homes  and  began  repairing  dam- 
ages. Fences  that  had  been  thrown  down  that  stock  might 
help  themselves  were  repaired  that  as  much  as  possible  of 
the  crops  might  be  saved.  I  returned  to  my  ranch  and  was 
busy  with  haying  and  harvest  when  another  report  reached 
us,  borne  on  the  wings  of  the  wind,  that  the  Bannocks  had 
doubled  on  their  tracks  and  were  scattering  death  and  de- 
struction in  their  path.  The  last  scare,  if  possible,  was 
worse  than  the  first.  About  the  same  time  the  Governor 
ordered  Gen.  M.  V.  Brown  with  the  Linn  county  company, 
under  Capt.  Humphrey,  to  hasten  to  our  aid.  This  was  the 
only  organized  troop  of  the  militia  available  for  immediate 
service,  and  without  loss  of  time  they  crossed  the  Cascade 
Mountains  and  arrived  at  Prineville  about  the  1 0th  of  July. 

The  company  was  a  magnificent  body  of  men,  and  repre- 
sented the  best  families  of  Linn  County.  One  of  the  privates 
was  the  son  of  a  former  United  States  Senator,  while  others 
were  young  men  of  superior  attainments — law  and  medical 
students.  George  Chamberlain,  present  United  States  Sena- 
tor from  Oregon,  was  first  sergeant  of  the  company,  Capt. 
Humphrey  was  a  veteran  of  the  Civil  War,  commanding  a 
company  in  many  sanguinary  battles.  Gen.  Brown  had  seen 
service  during  the  war  between  the  States,  but  he,  and  all 
were  ignorant  of  Indian  warfare.  On  his  arrival  at  Prine- 


150         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

ville  Gen.  Brown  sent  a  courier  to  my  ranch  with  a  letter 
urging  me  to  join  the  expedition.  My  business  affairs  had 
been  sadly  neglected  during  the  past  three  months,  and  I 
was  loth  to  start  out  on  an  expedition,  the  end  of  which  was 
impossible  to  foresee.  I  however  went  to  Prineville  and  had 
a  consultation  with  him.  Gen.  Brown  was  exceedingly 
desirous  that  I  should  go  with  him.  He  called  my  attention 
to  personal  obligations  of  friendship  due  from  me  to  him. 
That  settled  it  and  I  told  him  I  would  go.  He  authorized 
me  to  enlist  15  men  as  scouts  and  placed  me  in  command. 
The  number  were  readily  found,  they  providing  their  own 
horses,  arms,  ammunition  and  blankets.  Provisions  were 
supplied  from  the  commissary. 

In  Humphrey's  company  there  was  a  character  known 
as  "Warm  Spring  Johnny,"  whom  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
mention  further  on.  He  was  transferred  to  my  contingent 
by  order  of  Gen.  Brown,  as  it  was  believed  he  would  be  of 
service  to  me.  The  start  was  made  from  Prineville  the  next 
day,  our  course  leading  toward  the  head  of  Crooked  River 
and  the  South  John  Day. 

On  the  evening  of  the  second  day  we  arrived  at  Watson 
Springs  where  we  camped  for  the  night.  Guards  had  been 
placed  around  the  camp  and  I  had  laid  down  on  my  saddle 
blanket  to  rest  when  Warm  Spring  Johnny  came  and  sat 
beside  me.  He  then  told  me  that  at  this  place  he  saw  his 
first  white  man.  Going  into  the  history  of  his  life — he  was 
then  a  man  about  38  years  of  age — he  told  me  the  Snake 
Indians  had  captured  him  when  he  was  a  mere  child — so 
far  back  that  he  had  no  recollections  of  his  parents  or  of 
the  circumstances  of  his  capture.  He  was  raised  by  the 
Snakes,  and  always  supposed  he  was  an  Indian  like  the  rest 
of  them,  only  that  his  skin  was  white.  He  did  not  attempt 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        151 

to  account  for  this  difference — he  was  an  Indian  and  that 
was  all  he  knew. 

In  the  spring  of  1 868,  Lieut.  Watson  arrived  and  camped 
at  the  spring  which  was  forever  to  bear  his  name.  Here  the 
rim  rock  circles  around  the  head  of  the  spring  in  the  form 
of  a  half  wheel.  Willows  had  grown  up  along  the  edge 
of  the  stream  that  flowed  out  into  the  dun  sage  brush  plain. 
Into  this  trap  Lieut.  Watson  marched  his  men  and  camped. 
Evidently  he  felt  secure,  as  no  Indians  had  been  seen,  be- 
sides the  Warm  Spring  scouts  were  out  scouring  the  country. 
Probably  not  a  guard  or  picket  was  placed  about  the  camp. 
They  had  been  in  camp  an  hour,  and  were  busily  engaged  in 
cooking  their  meal  when  from  the  rim  of  the  bluff  on  three 
sides  a  host  of  tufted  warriors  poured  a  shower  of  arrows 
and  bullets  upon  them.  Lieut.  Watson  was  killed  with 
several  of  his  men  at  the  first  fire,  while  a  number  were 
wounded.  The  soldiers  for  protection  took  to  the  willows 
and  defended  themselves  as  best  they  could.  But  the  Snakes 
had  overlooked  the  Warm  Spring  scouts,  who,  hearing  the 
firing,  rushed  to  the  rescue  and  attacking  the  Snakes  in  the 
rear,  which  was  open  ground,  routed  them  with  the  loss  of 
several  warriors  killed  and  half  a  dozen  captured. 

Among  the  latter  was  Warm  Spring  Johnny.  He  was 
taken  to  the  officer  who  had  succeeded  Watson  in  command. 
Great  surprise  was  expressed  at  seeing  a  white  man  with  the 
Snakes  and  the  soldiers  were  for  making  short  work  of  the 
"white  renegade."  But  it  soon  became  evident  that  he  was 
as  much  a  wild  Indian  as  any  of  them,  and  his  youth,  about 
18,  making  in  his  favor  he  was  turned  over  to  the  Warm 
Spring  captors  to  guard,  along  with  the  other  captives.  They 
were  all  taken  down  the  little  branch  a  few  hundred  yards 
and  securely  bound  and  tied  to  a  stunted  juniper  tree.  Dur- 


152         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

ing  the  night  the  Warm  Springs  indulged  in  a  war  dance, 
each  lucky  warrior  flourishing  the  scalp  he  had  taken.  Along 
past  midnight  all  the  captives  excepting  Johnny  were  securely 
bound  to  the  juniper  with  green  rawhide,  a  mass  of  sage 
brush  collected  and  the  captives  roasted  alive.  Johnny  told 
me  that  every  moment  he  expected  to  be  served  in  the  same 
manner,  and  could  not  understand  why  his  comrades  were 
burned  while  he  was  saved.  He  said  he  supposed  that  his 
skin  being  white  they  had  reserved  him  for  some  particular 
occasion.  I  asked  him  if  the  soldiers  knew  that  the  captives 
were  being  burned.  He  replied  that  he  learned  afterwards 
that  the  Indians  told  the  soldiers  they  had  all  escaped  ex- 
cept the  white  one.  The  probabilities  are  that  the  soldiers 
were  too  busy  with  their  own  troubles  to  pay  any  attention 
to  what  was  going  on  in  the  camp  of  their  allies. 

Johnny  could  speak  fairly  good  English,  but  to  all  intents 
and  purposes  he  was  as  much  of  an  Indian  as  any  of  his 
copper  colored  friends.  He  was  adopted  into  the  Warm 
Springs  tribe  and  remained  with  them  for  a  number  of  years, 
but  marrying  a  squaw  from  another  tribe  moved  to  the 
Willamette  Valley,  where  he  lived  and  died  an  Indian.  He 
was  almost  invaluable  to  me  because  of  his  knowledge  of 
the  ways  and  signs  of  the  Snakes.  But  aside  from  this  he 
was  absolutely  useless  as  he  was  an  arrant  coward  and  could 
not  be  depended  on  when  danger  threatened. 

The  next  day  we  moved  south  and  after  a  rapid  march 
reached  the  Elkins  ranch  on  Grindstone,  a  tributary  of 
Crooked  River.  It  was  known  that  the  Indians  were  return- 
ing practically  by  the  same  route  they  had  previously  trav- 
eled, and  our  duty  was  to  prevent  raids  from  the  main  body 
and  protect  the  property  of  the  settlers  as  far  as  was  pos- 
sible. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         153 

First  gaining  permission  from  Gen.  Brown,  with  my  scouts 
and  four  volunteers,  I  started  out  to  discover  the  camp  of 
the  Indians,  which  from  the  lay  of  the  country,  I  thought 
likely  would  be  at  the  head  of  Buck  Creek,  at  a  spring  in 
the  edge  of  the  timber.  About  2  o'clock  we  arrived  at  the 
vicinity  of  the  supposed  camp  of  the  Indians,  and  taking  an 
elevated  position,  patiently  waited  for  dawn.  Finally  the 
gray  dawn  began  to  peep  over  the  crest  of  the  eastern  moun- 
tains, and  leading  our  horses  we  moved  closer.  When  day- 
light finally  arrived  we  were  within  a  hundred  yards  of  the 
spring,  but  nowhere  was  there  a  sign  of  life. 

Assuring  ourselves  that  the  renegades  had  not  passed  that 
point,  and  that  they  were  further  back,  we  started  to  meet 
them,  meantime  keeping  a  careful  lookout  ahead.  We  con- 
tinued on  to  Crooked  River  and  despairing  of  finding  or 
overtaking  them,  we  retraced  our  steps  to  camp,  arriving 
there  about  dark  after  riding  75  or  80  miles. 

The  next  day  it  was  determined  to  send  a  strong  detach- 
ment into  the  rough  brakes  of  the  South  John  Day.  Accord- 
ingly Capt.  Humphrey  detailed  36  men  and  I  joined  him 
with  the  scouts.  We  were  absent  three  days  and  returned 
to  camp  without  encountering  or  seeing  any  signs  of  Indians. 
After  resting  our  horses  one  day  we  again  struck  out,  this 
time  going  farther  north  in  the  direction  of  Murderers  Creek. 
The  country  was  indescribably  rough,  and  our  first  night's 
camp  was  at  the  John  Day  at  a  point  on  the  trail  made  by 
Gen.  Howard  when  he  was  herding  the  Indians  north. 
About  1 0  o'clock  one  of  the  men  from  a  picket  came  in  and 
told  me  that  the  Indians  were  signaling  from  two  sides  of  the 
camp.  I  walked  down  to  where  Capt.  Humphrey  was 
sleeping  and  woke  him  up.  We  watched  the  signaling  for 
a  few  minutes  and  then  sent  for  Warm  Spring  Johnny.  He 


154        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

said  they  were  signaling  that  we  were  a  strong  party  of 
soldiers  and  had  come  from  the  south.  He  then  explained 
how  the  flashes  were  made.  A  pile  of  dry  grass  was  col- 
lected and  then  surrounded  by  blankets.  The  grass  was 
then  fired  and  when  the  blaze  was  brightest  the  blankets  on 
one  side  was  quickly  raised  and  again  lowered,  giving  out 
a  bright  flash  light. 

I  advised  Capt.  Humphrey  to  hold  his  men  in  readiness 
for  a  daylight  attack,  feeling  certain  nothing  would  be  at- 
tempted until  just  at  the  break  of  day.  We  knew,  however, 
they  were  not  far  distant  and  that  great  care  was  necessary. 
After  discussing  the  situation  with  Capt.  Humphrey  it  was 
determined  to  go  on  as  far  as  Murderers  Creek,  striking  the 
stream  at  the  Stewart  ranch.  As  we  passed  over  the  inter- 
vening space  we  saw  abundant  evidence  of  the  presence  of 
Indians  and  proceeded  across  the  bald  hills  with  caution.  On 
the  hill  overlooking  the  Stewart  ranch  we  saw  quite  a  commo- 
tion, a  cloud  of  dust  raising  and  pointing  back  towards  a 
deep,  rocky,  precipitous  canyon.  Believing  the  Indians 
were  beating  a  retreat,  we  rode  forward  at  the  gallop,  but 
arrived  only  in  time  to  see  the  last  of  them  disappear  in  the 
mouth  of  the  canyon. 

On  the  open  ground  at  the  mouth  of  the  canyon  we  halted. 
The  canyon  presented  a  most  forbidding  appearance,  and 
to  follow  an  enemy  of  unknown  strength  into  its  gloomy 
depths  was  to  court  disaster.  The  canyon  into  which  the 
Indians  had  been  driven  was  steep,  rocky  and  with  the  sides 
covered  with  brush,  while  the  ridge  was  covered  with  scat- 
tering pines  back  to  the  timber  line  where  rose  the  jagged, 
serrated  peaks  of  the  extreme  summit  of  the  mountain.  After 
taking  a  careful  view  of  all  the  surroundings  we  retreated 
down  the  mountain  pretty  much  as  we  had  ascended  it. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        155 

Capt  Humphrey  agreed  with  me  that  we  did  not  have 
men  enough  to  attack  the  Indians  in  such  a  stronghold. 
There  remained  nothing  but  to  return  to  the  Stewart  ranch 
and  go  into  camp  for  the  night.  While  returning  we  decided 
to  hold  the  Indians  in  the  canyon  if  possible  and  send  a 
courier  back  to  Gen.  Brown  for  reinforcements.  Accord- 
ingly Ad.  Marcks  was  selected  for  the  night  trip.  He  was 
familiar  with  the  country  and  undertook  the  night  ride  with- 
out hesitation.  That  night  a  strong  guard  was  kept  around 
the  camp,  and  daylight  came  without  incident  worthy  of 
mention. 

It  was  then  decided  to  circle  the  canyon  into  which  we 
had  driven  the  Indians  on  the  previous  day.  We  made  the 
start  soon  after  sun-up,  taking  a  course  to  the  east  of  the 
point  ascended  the  day  before,  and  which  would  enable  us 
to  ascend  with  our  horses.  We  reached  the  summit  of  the 
first  steep  raise  and  were  rewarded  by  seeing  three  scouts 
disappear  in  the  canyon.  We  gave  chase  and  fired  a  few 
shots  from  the  rifles  of  the  scouts  which  had  no  other  effect 
than  to  cause  them  to  lean  a  little  further  forward  on  their 
horses  and  go  a  little  faster.  As  we  passed  up  the  ridge  we 
could  see  the  smoke  from  the  camp  fires  of  the  Indians  com- 
ing out  of  the  canyon.  The  camp  was  evidently  several 
hundred  yards  long  and  indicated  they  were  in  considerable 
force.  Nearing  the  timber  line,  the  pines  became  very 
thick,  in  fact  so  dense  that  we  could  force  our  horses  through 
with  difficulty.  My  scouts  were  a  couple  of  hundreds  yards 
in  advance,  and  as  we  burst  out  of  the  brush  we  came  upon 
the  horse  herd  guarded  by  four  Indians.  Taking  in  the  sit- 
uation at  a  glance,  I  put  spurs  to  my  horse,  and  calling  to 
the  men  to  come  on,  made  a  dash  to  cut  them  off  from  the 
canyon  down  which  the  herders  were  endeavoring  to  force 


156        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

them.  We  made  no  attempt  to  use  our  rifles,  but  drawing 
our  revolvers  opened  fire  on  the  scurrying  herders.  It  was 
quite  a  mix-up,  but  we  managed  to  capture  nineteen  head  of 
good  horses.  After  the  fray  I  looked  around  for  the  first 
time  and  discovered  that  instead  of  all,  but  one  man  had 
followed  me,  that  was  the  young  boy,  Eugene  Jones.  The 
others  had  taken  to  trees,  one  going  back  to  hurry  up  Capt. 
Humphrey.  Had  they  all  followed  as  did  the  boy  we 
would  have  captured  every  horse  and  probably  have  got  the 
herders  as  well.  Descending  the  ridge  on  the  west  side  we 
crossed  the  trail  made  by  the  Indians  when  coming  into  the 
canyon. 

At  2  o'clock  the  next  morning  I  again  started  to  circle  the 
camp  with  twenty  men,  leaving  Capt.  Humphrey  at  the 
Stewart  ranch.  I  ascended  the  mountain  farther  to  the  east 
than  the  day  before  and  reached  the  timber  line  at  daylight. 
A  hundred  yards  or  more  from  the  timber  line  was  a  clump 
of  stunted  trees.  I  determined  to  dismount  my  men  and 
rest  our  horses.  As  we  were  dismounting  one  of  the  scouts, 
Al  Igo,  asked  permission  to  ride  up  the  ridge  aways  and  get 
a  better  look  at  the  country.  I  gave  consent  but  cautioned 
him  not  to  venture  too  far.  As  soon  as  the  girths  of  our 
saddles  were  loosened  and  guards  placed  around  I  threw 
myself  on  the  grass  and  was  asleep  in  five  minutes.  But  my 
sleep  was  of  short  duration,  for  Igo  came  dashing  back, 
calling,  "get  out  of  here,  we  are  being  surrounded."  He 
said  he  had  counted  eighty  odd  warriors  on  one  side  and 
fifteen  on  the  other. 

We  lost  no  time,  allow  me  to  assure  you,  in  "getting  out 
of  there."  A  quarter  of  a  mile  above  us,  and  about  the 
same  distance  from  the  timber  line  on  every  side,  were  three 
jagged  peaks,  and  not  more  than  twenty  yards  apart.  Here 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         157 

I  stationed  the  men,  first  dismounting  them  and  securing  our 
horses  among  the  rocks  so  as  to  shield  them  from  the  bullets 
of  the  Indians.  I  felt  sure  that  we  were  going  to  have  a 
fight,  and  against  heavy  odds.  But  the  rocks  made  a  splen- 
did fort,  and  I  explained  to  the  men  that  if  they  would  save 
their  ammunition  and  not  get  excited  we  could  stand  off  all 
the  Indians  west  of  the  Rocky  mountains.  After  talking  to 
them  I  took  two  men,  Charley  Long  and  a  young  man  named 
Armstrong,  two  of  the  best  shots  in  the  company,  and 
crawled  down  through  the  grass  about  1  50  yards  to  another 
pile  of  rocks.  I  calculated  that  if  I  did  not  hold  that  point 
the  Indians  could  unseen  reach  it  and  pour  a  deadly  fire 
into  our  position  above.  Besides  I  had  hopes  of  getting 
some  of  them  when  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  timber. 
We  had  reached  the  position  but  a  few  minutes  when  two 
rode  out  of  the  timber  to  our  left  and  about  400  yards  away. 
The  boys  wanted  to  fire,  but  I  held  them  back  telling  them 
that  we  would  get  surer  shots  by  not  disclosing  our  position. 
We  could  see  them  watching  the  men  in  the  rocks  above, 
and  scon  they  turned  and  rode  straight  towards  us,  all  the 
while  watching  the  men  in  the  rocks.  When  within  100 
yards  I  told  the  men  to  take  deliberate  aim  and  we  would 
fire  together.  I  pulled  on  the  trigger  of  my  needle  gun  until 
I  could  feel  it  give.  But  something  told  me  not  to  fire  and 
I  told  the  men  to  wait.  On  they  came,  and  again  we  drew 
deadly  beads  on  the  unsuspecting  horsemen,  but  there  was 
an  undefinable  something  that  told  me  not  to  fire.  When 
they  had  come  within  thirty  yards  we  discovered  they  were 
\vhite  men.  We  rose  up  out  of  the  rocks  and  grass  and  when 
they  came  up  I  discovered  that  one  of  them  was  an  old 
friend,  Warren  Cassner,  from  John  Day  Valley.  We  also 
discovered  for  the  first  time  that  the  sun  was  in  total  eclipse. 


158        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

Everything  looked  dark,  and  they  had  taken  us  for  Indians 
and  we  had  came  within  a  hairs  breadth  of  sending  them  into 
eternity  under  the  same  false  impression.  When  I  saw  how 
near  I  had  come  to  killing  my  friend  I  was  all  in  a  tremble. 

The  two  men  belonged  to  a  company  of  1 25  men  raised 
in  John  Day  Valley  and  Canyon  City  and  were  pursuing  a 
large  band  of  Indians  that  had  come  in  the  night  before. 
They  made  a  trail  as  broad  as  a  wagon  road  and  evidently 
numbered  a  hundred  or  more  warriors.  Joined  with  those 
we  had  been  watching  they  constituted  quite  a  force  and 
would  evidently  put  up  a  stiff  fight.  We  returned  with  the 
John  Day  men  to  the  Stewart  ranch,  and  Gen.  Brown  hav- 
ing arrived  during  the  day,  our  forces  numbered  full  250 
men,  and  all  full  of  fight.  That  night  plans  \Vere  discussed 
for  the  coming  attack.  I  favored  dividing  our  forces  and 
attacking  them  from  both  sides  of  the  canyon.  In  this, 
however,  I  was  overruled  and  all  was  arranged  for  a  com- 
bined attack  on  the  Indian  position  from  the  west  side.  It 
was  arranged  that  I  should  start  at  2  o'clock  with  25  men, 
circle  the  west  side  of  the  camp,  and  if  the  Indians  had 
slipped  out  during  the  night  I  was  to  follow  and  send  back 
a  messenger  to  the  main  command.  That  there  might  be  no 
mistake  as  to  the  course  we  should  take  in  the  morning,  I 
pointed  to  the  canyon  in  which  the  Indians  were  encamped 
and  the  ridge  up  which  we  would  go. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ANOTHER  ATTACK  THAT  MISCARRIED. 

Everything  was  in  readiness.  Two  hundred  rounds  of 
ammunition  was  distributed  to  the  men,  and  all  were  in  high 
glee  at  the  prospect  of  being  able  to  revenge  the  cruel  murder 
of  friends  and  neighbors. 

At  2  o'clock  we  were  roused  by  the  guards.  Horses 
were  quickly  saddled  and  after  a  meal  of  bread,  meat  and 
coffee  we  mounted  and  filed  out  of  camp.  Besides  the 
scouts  I  had  ten  men  belonging  to  the  John  Day  volunteers. 
As  daylight  began  to  peep  over  the  mountain  tops  we  reached 
the  head  of  the  canyon  in  which  the  Indians  were  encamped. 
We  had  kept  a  close  lookout  for  any  signs  of  the  Indians 
abandoning  the  canyon  but  found  none.  There  could  be  no 
question  as  to  their  whereabouts — not  more  than  a  mile  below 
us. 

We  halted  here  and  engaged  in  a  discussion  as  to  the 
advisability  of  going  around  to  the  west  side  of  the  canyon, 
and  when  the  attack  began  to  open  on  them  from  that  side. 
The  John  Day  men  were  decidedly  in  favor  of  the  move. 
But  Gen.  Brown  had  especially  requested  that  I  should  be 
with  the  main  force  when  the  fight  began,  and  I  must  return 
and  meet  him.  It  was  finally  arranged  that  I  should  return, 
taking  one  man  with  me,  while  the  others  should  go  down 
the  west  side  of  the  cayon.  Accordingly  I  selected  the  boy 
Eugene  Jones  and  we  started  back.  It  was  arranged  that 
the  main  force  should  follow  me  up  the  mountain  within  an 


160        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

hour  after  I  left  camp,  and  I  expected  to  meet  them  about 
the  time  the  attack  began.  I  did  not  consider  it  as  being 
particularly  hazardous,  as  they  could  not  be  very  far  away. 
We  rode  at  the  gallop,  expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the 
report  of  the  opening  guns.  It  was  broad  daylight  now  and 
we  sped  on  as  fast  as  our  horses  could  carry  us.  But 
nothing  could  be  seen  or  heard  of  the  command.  Our  sit- 
uation was  now  serious  in  the  extreme.  We  passed  within 
600  yards  of  the  Indian  camp  and  could  see  the  smoke 
curling  up  out  of  the  canyon.  But  the  only  alternative  that 
presented  itself  to  us  was  to  go  ahead  as  we  should  certainly 
meet  the  troops  within  a  short  distance.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  we  were  "so  far  stepped  in  that  to  retreat  were  worse 
than  going  o'er."  On  and  on  we  sped  until  the  brow  of 
the  mountain  was  reached  overlooking  Murderers  Creek 
Valley,  and  nowhere  could  we  get  sight  of  man  or  beast. 
"What  does  it  mean?"  These  were  the  questions  repeated 
one  with  the  other.  We  finally  concluded  that  the  Indians 
had  slipped  out  behind  us,  or  that  we  had  overlooked  their 
trail,  and  that  Gen.  Brown  finding  it  had  started  in  pursuit. 
Descending  the  mountain  we  struck  across  the  valley  and 
at  or  near  the  creek  we  found  the  trail  of  the  command.  It 
was  easy  to  distinguish  the  trail  as  our  men  rode  shod  horses 
while  the  Indian  ponies  were  bare-footed.  Picking  up  the 
trail  we  rode  as  fast  as  the  condition  of  our  tired  horses 
would  permit.  About  four  miles  from  where  we  struck  the 
trail  we  found  the  carcass  of  one  of  our  pack  mules.  We 
at  first  thought  there  had  been  a  skirmish  and  that  the  mule 
had  been  killed.  An  examination,  however,  showed  us 
that  the  mule  had  fallen  over  an  embankment  and  broken  his 
neck.  Following  a  well  beaten  trail  we  did  not  discover 
that  the  command  had  left  it  until  we  had  gone  some  two 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER        161 

or  three  miles  past  the  carcass  of  the  dead  mule.  We  there- 
fore began  to  retrace  our  steps.  It  should  be  understood 
that  the  course  taken  by  the  command  was  due  east,  at 
right  angles  to  that  which  they  should  have  taken  in  follow- 
ing me  in  the  morning.  Returning,  we  carefully  examined 
each  side  of  the  trail  in  order  to  discover  where  it  had  been 
left.  We  finally  came  back  to  the  carcass  of  the  dead  mule. 
We  knew  they  had  been  there,  but  what  had  become  of 
them?  Eugene  suggested  that  they  had  "had  an  extra  big 
scare  and  had  taken  to  wing." 

While  we  were  looking  for  the  trail  six  of  the  men  from 
whom  we  had  separated  in  the  morning  rode  up.  They  were 
as  much  bewildered  as  I.  In  fact,  I  could  not  account  for 
the  actions  of  the  command  except  that  there  was  rank, 
craven  cowardice  somewhere,  and  the  language  I  used  was 
freely  punctuated  with  adjectives  not  fit  for  print.  After  a 
long  search  we  discovered  where  they  had  left  the  trail. 
They  had  followed  a  shell  rock  ridge  for  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  probably,  as  some  of  the  men  suggested,  to  hide  their 
trail  for  fear  the  Indians  would  follow  them.  The  course 
was  now  due  north.  This  they  kept  until  reaching  the  sum- 
mit, when  they  again  turned  west.  We  followed  on  as  fast 
as  the  jaded  condition  of  our  horses  would  permit,  until  I 
discovered  pony  tracks  following  behind.  Keeping  a  sharp 
lookout,  however,  we  continued  on  until  we  came  to  where 
one  of  the  Indians  had  dismounted,  the  imprint  of  his  moc- 
casin being  clearly  outlined  in  the  dust.  This  presented  a 
new  difficulty,  and  we  now  understood  why  they  had  not 
picked  us  off  in  the  morning.  They  were  entrenched  and 
were  waiting  to  be  attacked,  but  seeing  the  main  force  turn 
tail,  the  hunted  had  turned  hunters. 

To  follow  the  trail  further  appeared  madness,  and  we 


162  REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

turned  down  the  mountain,  keeping  in  the  thick  cover.  I 
concluded  the  command  would  simply  circle  the  camp  and 
return  to  the  Stewart  ranch  that  night.  Accordingly  we 
bent  our  course  so  as  to  strike  the  head  of  the  valley,  which 
we  reached  at  sundown,  but  nowhere  could  we  discover  the 
presence  of  man  or  beast.  We  waited  until  dark  and  then 
led  our  horses  up  through  the  willows  lining  the  banks  of  the 
creek,  and  finding  an  open  space  picketed  our  horses,  and 
leaving  a  guard  of  two  men,  laid  down  to  sleep.  I  told 
the  boy  Eugene  to  wake  me  up  and  I  would  stand  guard, 
but  he  failed  to  do  so,  saying  he  was  not  as  tired  as  I  and 
stood  both  guards. 

At  daylight  we  again  saddled  up  and  began  a  search  for 
the  command.  We  had  eaten  nothing  since  2  o'clock  on 
the  previous  morning  and  began  to  feel  keenly  the  effects 
of  hunger.  All  that  day  we  wandered  through  the  moun- 
tains, returning  to  our  hiding  place  in  the  willows  of  the 
night  before.  At  daylight  I  wrote  a  note  and  left  it  at  the 
Stewart  ranch  and  then  determined  to  reach  John  Day  Val- 
ley. Food  we  must  have,  and  we  knew  we  could  find 
something  there.  Striking  a  course  through  the  mountains 
we  reached  the  Cummins  ranch  at  4  o'clock  that  day.  We 
had  now  been  without  food  for  62  hours,  and  from  that 
day  to  this  I  could  never  bear  to  see  anything  hungry — man 
or  beast.  Here  we  found  Gen.  Brown  with  most  of  his  com- 
mand enjoying  their  ease.  Some  kind  ladies  at  the  house, 
learning  our  condition,  quickly  set  us  some  food,  mostly 
soups  and  articles  of  light  diet. 

In  explanation  of  his  remarkable  course,  Gen.  Brown  de- 
clared he  was  misled  by  the  John  Day  volunteers,  while 
they  in  turn  laid  the  blame  on  Gen.  Brown.  I  was  furious 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER  163 

over  the  whole  shameful  affair  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal 
my  disgust.  Capt.  Humphrey  told  me  that  he  knew  they 
were  going  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  told  Brown  so,  but 
the  latter  said  Lieut.  Angel  was  acting  as  guide  and  that 
they  would  follow  him,  and  on  the  head  of  that  officer  the 
blame  finally  rested. 

This  incident  and  others  led  next  day  to  the  enforced 
resignation  of  Lieutenant  Angel  and  the  election  of  George 
Chamberlain  as  his  successor. 

From  the  Cummins  ranch  we  went  to  Canyon  City  for 
supplies,  and  from  there  to  Bear  Valley,  on  the  mountain 
to  the  west,  and  on  the  road  leading  to  Camp  Harney.  Af- 
ter resting  our  horses  for  a  day,  Gen.  Brown  and  I,  with  a 
small  escort,  went  to  Camp  Harney  hoping  to  get  some 
news,  and  while  awaiting  the  return  of  Chamberlain.  At 
Camp  Harney  a  small  force  of  regulars  was  posted  and 
some  thirty  or  forty  families  had  gathered  there  for  protec- 
tion. Many  of  the  women  and  children  had  escaped  from 
their  homes,  scantily  dressed,  and  had  been  unable  to  pro- 
cure any  clothing  during  the  lapse  of  more  than  a  month. 
It  was  a  sad  sight,  especially  those  who  had  lost  husbands, 
sons  and  brothers. 

The  day  after  our  arrival,  two  ladies,  the  wives  of  Major 
Downing  and  Major  McGregor,  sent  for  me.  The  latter 
had  two  or  three  children  besides  her  mother.  Their  hus- 
bands were  with  Howard's  column  and  they  were  anxious 
to  reach  Canyon  City  and  go  from  there  to  Walla  Walla. 
Would  I  escort  them  to  Canyon  City?  I  said  certainly,  I 
would  do  so,  as  I  would  go  within  a  few  miles  of  that  place 
on  my  return  to  camp.  Lieut.  Bonsteil  of  the  regulars  spoke 
up  and  said  he  would  provide  them  with  an  escort  at  any 
time.  But  Mrs.  McGregor  told  him  plainly  that  she  would 


164         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

not  go  with  the  soldiers — that  if  they  got  into  trouble  the 
soldiers  would  run  away — but  the  volunteers  would  stay 
with  them.  The  Lieutenant  suggested  that  "it  was  a  fine 
recommendation  for  the  United  States  Army."  "I  know  the 
army  better  than  you  do,  Lieutenant,  and  have  known  it 
much  longer,  and  I  will  not  risk  my  life  and  the  lives  of  my 
children  with  them,"  said  the  plain  spoken  Scotch  lady.  The 
next  morning,  bright  and  early,  we  started  out.  The  ladies 
were  riding  in  an  ambulance,  driven  by  a  soldier.  When 
near  half  way  to  Bear  Valley  and  near  Mountain  Springs, 
we  crossed  the  fresh  trail  of  a  strong  party  of  Indians, 
but  we  arrived  at  our  destination  safely,  and  next  morning 
returned  to  camp.  Here  we  rested  a  couple  of  days  and, 
Chamberlain  returning,  we  moved  to  our  head  camp  at 
Grindstone.  We  had  accomplished  nothing  in  the  way  of 
destroying  hostiles,  but  had  prevented  them  from  scattering 
and  committing  all  kinds  of  atrocities  as  they  had  done  be- 
fore reaching  John  Day  Valley. 

Arriving  at  our  camp  we  found  ourselves  without  any 
provisions.  Accordingly  Gen.  Brown  and  I  started  to 
Prineville  with  a  four  horse  team  to  obtain  supplies  to  send 
back  to  the  men  who  were  to  follow.  We  took  along  a 
teamster  and  the  quartermaster.  Starting  in  the  evening  we 
arrived  at  the  crossing  of  Beaver  Creek,  and  I  captured  an 
old  hen,  all  that  was  left  at  the  ranch  after  its  plunder  by 
the  Indians  in  June.  We  drove  until  midnight  and  arriving 
at  Watson  Springs,  stopped  for  the  night.  We  dressed  the 
hen  and  had  the  driver  to  sit  up  the  balance  of  the  night  and 
boil  her.  When  daylight  came  we  tried  to  breakfast  off 
the  hen,  but  it  was  a  rank  failure,  and  we  harnessed  up  and 
drove  on,  getting  a  meal  at  a  ranch  ten  miles  from  Prineville, 
to  which  place  we  drove  that  night. 


Thus  ended  my  last  Indian  campaign,  and  one  of  which 
I  never  felt  any  great  amount  of  pride.  In  one  respect  it 
was  a  rank  failure,  due,  I  have  always  thought,  to  the  rank 
cowardice  of  some  one — probably  more  than  one.  We  had, 
however  accomplished  some  good,  as  before  remarked,  and 
probably  saved  some  lives,  and  that  was  worth  all  the  hard- 
ships we  had  endured. 

I  cannot  close  this  narrative  without  a  further  reference 
to  the  boy,  Eugene  Jones.  During  the  first  two  weeks  of  the 
campaign  my  eyes  became  badly  affected  from  the  dust  and 
glare  of  the  sun,  reflected  from  the  white  alkali  plains  on  the 
head  of  Crooked  River.  At  times  I  could  scarcely  bear 
the  light,  which  seemed  fairly  to  burn  my  eyeballs.  From 
the  first  Eugene  had  attached  himself  to  me.  He  would 
insist  on  taking  care  of  my  horse  in  camp,  and  often  would 
stop  at  a  spring  or  stream  and  wetting  a  handkerchief  would 
bind  it  over  my  eyes  and  lead  my  horse  for  miles  at  a  time. 
At  Murderers  Creek,  too,  he  was  the  only  man  to  follow 
me  when  I  made  the  dash  after  the  Indian  horse  herd. 
Another  thing  I  observed  about  the  boy  was  that  I  never 
heard  him  use  an  oath  or  a  vulgar,  coarse  expression.  What 
then  was  my  surprise  on  arriving  at  Prineville  to  find  a  letter 
from  Sheriff  Hogan  of  Douglas  County  telling  me  that  the 
boy,  Eugene  Jones,  was  none  other  than  Eugene  English,  a 
notorious  highwayman  and  stage  robber.  He  was  a  brother 
of  the  English  boys,  well  known  as  desperate  characters.  I 
was  stunned,  perplexed.  The  Sheriff  asked  me  to  place  him 
under  arrest.  But  how  could  I  do  so,  after  all  he  had  done 
for  me?  It  appeared  in  my  eyes  the  depth  of  ingratitude. 
In  my  dilemma  I  laid  the  matter  before  Judge  Frank  Nichols 
of  Prineville.  I  related  all  the  boy  had  done  for  me,  and 
asked  him  what,  under  like  circumstances,  he  would  do. 


166         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

"By  George,  Colonel,  I  would  not  give  him  up.  It  may  be 
wrong,  but  I  would  not  do  it,"  replied  the  old  Judge.  We 
then  went  to  Mr.  Brayman,  a  merchant  of  the  town,  and  laid 
the  matter  before  him.  He  fully  agreed  with  us  that  the 
boy  should  be  saved.  I  then  went  to  the  quartermaster,  got 
a  voucher  for  the  boy's  services,  obtained  the  money  on  the 
voucher  from  Mr.  Brayman,  and  putting  a  man  on  a  horse, 
explained  to  him  that  he  was  to  hand  the  letter  and  money  to 
Eugene,  first  having  him  to  sign  the  voucher,  or  warrant,  over 
to  Mr.  Brayman. 

The  young  man  found  the  boy  with  the  volunteers.  He 
called  him  to  one  side,  gave  him  my  letter  as  well  as  the 
money.  He  signed  the  voucher,  and  that  night  disappeared 
and  I  never  saw  or  heard  of  him  again.  But  of  this  I  feel 
certain,  if  he  fell  in  with  the  right  class  of  men  he  made  a 
good  man  and  citizen.  Otherwise,  otherwise.  Do  you 
blame  me,  reader?  I  have  never  felt  a  regret  for  what  I 
did.  "Put  yourself  in  my  place." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

REIGN  OF  THE  VIGILANTES. 

Every  newly  settled  country  has  had  to  deal,  to  a  greater 
or  less  extent,  with  lawless  characters.  Generally  these  out- 
laws have  been  brought  into  subjection  and  destroyed  under 
the  operation  of  law.  Occasionally,  however,  this,  from 
one  cause  or  another,  has  been  impossible.  It  is  then  that 
citizens,  unable  longer  to  bear  the  outrages  committed  by  des- 
perate criminals,  take  the  law  into  their  own  hands  and  ad- 
minister justice  according  to  their  own  ideas  of  right,  and 
without  the  forms  of  law.  Such  occasions  are  always  to  be 
deplored.  They  arise  from  two  causes,  the  mal-administra- 
tion  of  justice  and  blodness  of  criminals  whose  long  immunity 
from  punishment  renders  them  reckless  and  defiant  of  both 
law  and  the  citizens. 

Such  conditions  existed  in  the  late  70's  and  early  80's 
in  that  portion  of  Eastern  Oregon  now  embraced  in  the  county 
of  Crook.  During  several  years  desperate  characters  had 
congregated  in  that  section.  From  petty  crimes,  such  as  the 
stealing  of  cattle  and  horses,  they  resorted  to  bolder  acts, 
embracing  brutal  and  diabolical  murder.  For  a  time  the 
citizens  appeared  helpless.  Men  were  arrested  for  crime 
and  the  forms  of  law  gone  through  with.  Their  associates 
in  crime  would  go  into  court,  swear  them  out  and  then  boast 
of  the  act.  On  one  occasion  I  went  to  one  of  the  best  and 
most  substantial  citizens  of  the  country,  Wayne  Claypool, 
and  asked  him  about  an  act  of  larceny  of  which  he  had  been 
a  witness.  He  had  seen  the  crime  committed  from  conceal- 


168         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

ment.  I  asked  him  if  he  was  going  to  have  the  men  arrested. 
He  replied  that  he  was  not.  Then,  said  I,  if  you  do  not  I 
will.  "Mr.  Thompson,"  he  replied,  "rather  than  appear 
against  them  I  will  abandon  all  I  have  and  leave  the  country. 
For  if  they  did  not  kill  me  they  would  destroy  all  I  have." 
Under  these  circumstances  I  was  forced  to  let  the  matter 
drop,  and  content  myself  with  writing  an  article  for  the  local 
paper.  No  names  were  mentioned  and  nothing  at  which  an 
honest  man  could  take  offense.  Instead  of  publishing  the 
article  as  a  communication,  it  was  published  as  an  editorial. 
But  scarcely  had  the  paper  appeared  on  the  street,  than 
three  men,  all  known  to  be  thieves  and  desperate  characters, 
caught  the  editor,  knocked  him  down,  pulled  out  his  beard, 
and  would  probably  have  done  him  greater  bodily  harm  had 
not  Til  Glaze  interfered  and  stopped  them.  While  the 
editor  was  being  beaten  he  hallowed  pitifully,  "I  didn't  do 
it,  Thompson  did  it."  This  embittered  the  whole  gang 
against  both  Glaze  and  myself.  But  they  appeared  satisfied 
with  threats  about  what  they  were  going  to  do,  and  for  the 
time  being  made  no  attempt  to  carry  out  their  threats  against 
either  of  us. 

This  was  in  the  fall  of  the  year.  On  the  1  5th  of  March, 
1 882,  a  man  dashed  into  town  and  riding  up  to  me  asked 
where  he  would  find  the  Coroner.  He  was  greatly  excited 
and  his  horse  was  covered  with  foam.  I  told  him  the  near- 
est officer  was  at  The  Dalles,  125  miles  away,  but  that  a 
Justice  of  the  Peace  could  act  in  his  absence.  I  then  asked 
him  what  was  the  matter?  He  replied  that  Langdon  and 
Harrison  had  killed  old  man  Crook  and  his  son-in-law,  Mr. 
Jorey.  I  then  told  him  to  go  to  Mr.  Powers,  the  Justice  of 
the  Peace.  Presently  the  Deputy  Sheriff  for  that  section  of 
Wasco  County  came  to  me  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him  to 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         169 

assist  in  the  arrest  of  the  murderers.  There  had  been  some 
dispute  between  the  murderers  and  the  murdered  men,  result- 
ing a  law  suit.  It  was  at  best  a  trivial  matter  and  no  further 
trouble  was  apprehended.  But  immunity  from  punishment 
had  emboldened  the  gang  and  they  believed  they  could  do 
as  before,  simply  defy  the  law.  I  declined  to  go  with  the 
Deputy,  making  as  an  excuse  that  I  did  not  feel  well.  He 
then  summoned  me  as  a  posse.  I  told  him  to  "summons  and 
be  d — d,"  I  would  not  go.  That  it  was  a  long  ricle  and 
that  the  men  had  been  seen  "going  towards  The  Dalles,  say- 
ing they  were  going  to  give  themselves  up."  The  officer 
was  furious  and  went  away  threatening  me  with  the  law. 
But  I  had  other  ideas  regarding  the  whereabouts  of  the 
murderers.  An  old  gentleman  living  on  Mill  Creek,  east  of 
Prineville  and  about  thirty  miles  from  the  scene  of  the 
murders,  had  told  me  of  the  finding  of  a  cabin  concealed  in 
a  fir  thicket  and  that  it  contained  both  provisions  and  horse- 
feed  and  had  the  appearance  of  having  been  much  used, 
but  that  there  was  no  trail  leading  to  it.  As  soon  as  I 
learned  of  the  murders  I  made  up  my  mind  that  the  murderers 
would  go  to  that  cabin.  I  did  not,  for  reasons  of  my  own, 
mainly  that  he  talked  too  much,  tell  the  Deputy  of  my 
plans.  I  went  to  four  men — men  of  unquestioned  courage 
and  discretion — and  told  them  of  my  plans.  These  men 
were  Til  Glaze,  Sam  Richardson,  G.  W.  Barns  and  Charley 
Long.  They  all  agreed  to  go  with  me.  It  was  arranged  that 
we  were  to  slip  out  of  town  singly  and  meet  a  few  miles  up 
the  Ochoco  Creek,  at  a  designated  place.  We  deemed  this 
essential  to  success,  as  we  knew  that  the  men  had  confeder- 
ates in  town  who  would  beat  us  to  the  cabin  and  give  the 
alarm.  Meantime  the  angry  Deputy  got  a  posse  together 
and  started  on  his  fruitless  errand.  We  loitered  about  town 


170         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

until  about  8  o'clock,  taking  particular  pains  to  let  our- 
selves be  seen,  especially  about  the  saloons.  We  did  not 
talk  together,  nor  did  we  permit  any  of  the  gang  to  see  us 
in  company.  We  then  dropped  off  saying  we  were  going 
home,  that  it  was  bed  time. 

But  instead  of  going  to  bed  we  mounted  our  horses  and 
taking  back  streets  slipped  out  of  town.  The  night  was 
dark  and  stormy,  but  all  five  reached  the  rendezvous  on  time 
and  we  then  proceeded  to  the  ranch  of  Mr.  Johnson  whom 
we  requested  to  pilot  us  to  the  secret  cabin.  The  vicinity 
of  the  cabin  was  reached  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
and  after  securing  our  horses  we  cautiously  approached  it.  A 
light  was  soon  discovered  and  with  still  greater  caution  we 
attempted  to  surround  the  cabin.  The  barking  of  a  dog, 
however,  gave  the  alarm  and  both  murderers  seized  their 
rifles,  blankets  and  some  provisions  and  made  their  escape. 
Jumping  over  a  log  behind  the  cabin  they  stopped  to  listen 
and  finally  thinking  it  a  false  alarm,  laid  down  their  guns, 
etc.,  and  walked  around  to  the  corner  of  the  cabin.  The 
snow  was  a  foot  deep  and  so  dark  was  the  night  that  they 
did  not  see  us  until  we  were  within  a  few  feet  of  them. 
They  then  started  to  run  when  Richardson,  Glaze  and 
Barns  opened  on  them  with  their  revolvers.  Long  and  I 
were  within  a  few  feet  of  the  front  door  and  did  not  catch 
even  a  glimpse  of  the  fleeing  murderers.  They  were  chased 
so  closely  that  they  had  no  time  to  get  either  their  horses, 
guns  or  blankets,  but  made  their  escape  in  the  darkness. 
When  the  shooting  began  the  door  flew  open  and  a  crowd  of 
eleven  men  made  a  rush.  Long  and  I  were  armed  with 
double  barrel  shot  guns,  and  leveling  them  on  the  crowd  we 
ordered  them  back  or  we  would  kill  every  man  of  them. 
You  may  be  sure  they  lost  no  time  in  getting  back  and  clos- 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         171 

ing  the  door.  I  then  stepped  to  the  side  of  the  door  and  told 
them  we  were  after  Langdon  and  Harrison,  and  did  not  wish 
to  harm  any  one  else,  but  that  if  one  of  them  stuck  his  head 
out  of  the  cabin  he  would  get  it  blown  off. 

We  had  got  the  horses,  blankets  and  rifles  of  the  mur- 
derers, and  now  began  the  watch  that  was  to  last  until  day- 
light. The  wind  was  fierce,  even  in  the  shelter  of  the  timber, 
and  a  cold  snow  drifted  over  us.  We  had  not  only  to  guard 
the  house,  but  the  shed  in  which  the  horses  were  tied  as  well. 
Besides,  we  did  not  know  what  would  happen  when  daylight 
came  and  they  should  discover  that  our  party  numbered  five, 
instead  of  twenty,  as  they  supposed.  When  daylight  finally 
came  I  went  to  the  door  and  told  those  inside  to  come  out 
and  to  come  out  unarmed.  They  obeyed  at  once,  and  eleven 
men  filed  out  of  the  cabin.  Of  the  number,  there  was  but 
one  that  any  of  us  had  ever  seen  before,  or  to  my  knowledge 
ever  saw  again.  The  one  was  a  brother  of  Langdon,  and  we 
at  once  placed  him  under  arrest  that  he  might  not  render  his 
brother  assistance. 

We  had  agreed  on  our  plans  during  the  night,  and  taking 
young  Langdon,  Long  and  I  started  back  to  town,  while  the 
others  began  to  circle  for  tracks  of  the  fugitives  in  the  snow. 
I  should  have  stated  that  when  the  shooting  began  the  night 
before,  Mr.  Johnson  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  home  at  top 
speed.  Arriving  there,  he  sent  one  of  his  sons  to  Prineville 
and  the  other  up  the  Ochoco,  telling  them  that  we  had  the 
murderers  surrounded  and  were  fighting  as  long  as  he  was  in 
hearing,  and  were  in  need  of  help.  Going  up  the  mountain 
I  discovered  the  tracks  of  the  fugitives  in  the  snow,  and  as 
we  reached  the  summit  we  met  75  or  80  men  coming  out  to 
help  us.  I  turned  them  all  back,  saying  the  murderers  had 
escaped,  and  that  the  rest  of  our  party  were  coming  a  short 


172         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

distance  behind.  I  had  directed  Long  to  keep  by  the  side  of 
young  Langdon  and  that  if  he  attempted  to  escape  to  kill 
him.  I  then  called  out  four  young  men  whom  I  could  trust 
and  told  them  to  drop  behind  and  watch  for  the  trail  of  the 
fugitives  when  they  should  leave  the  road.  We  then  all 
returned  to  Prineville  and  I  turned  the  young  man  over  to 
the  Deputy  Sheriff,  telling  him  to  lock  him  up. 

The  four  young  men  struck  the  trail  at  the  foot  of  the  Mill 
Creek  mountain,  and  following  it  until  convinced  the  fugi- 
tives were  endeavoring  to  reach  home  to  get  horses,  aban- 
doned it  and  struck  out  through  the  mountains  the  nearest 
route  to  the  Langdon  place.  They  reached  the  ranch  just 
as  the  men  had  got  horses  and  some  food  and  were  coming 
through  the  gate.  Five — even  one  minute  and  they  would 
have  been  too  late.  But  leveling  their  shot  guns  on  the  mur- 
derers they  surrendered.  They  were  then  brought  to  town, 
and  instead  of  awakening  the  officers,  they  came  to  my  house 
and  asked  me  to  get  up  and  take  charge  of  the  prisoners. 
This  circumstance  enabled  my  enemies,  especially  the  outlaw 
gang,  to  accuse  me  of  being  the  head  of  the  vigilantes.  The 
prisoners  were  held  at  the  livery  stable,  and  as  soon  as  I 
arrived  I  sent  for  the  Deputy  Sheriff  and  City  Marshal,  and 
on  their  arrival  moved  the  prisoners  to  the  bar  room  of  the 
hotel.  The  Deputy  asked  me  to  remain  and  assist  in  guard- 
ing the  prisoners.  At  the  hotel  the  Deputy  and  Marshal 
guarded  the  street  door,  while  I  kept  watch  on  the  back  door. 
Langdon  was  shackled  and  laid  down  on  a  lounge  and  fell 
asleep.  Harrison  was  sitting  near  me  and  had  started  in  to 
tell  me  all  about  the  murder.  I  was  sitting  sidewise  to  the 
street  door,  and  hearing  it  open,  turned  my  head  just  as 
four  men  sprang  upon  the  two  officers  and  bore  them  to  the 
floor.  At  the  same  instant  two  men  rushed  across  the  room 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER          173 

and  leveled  their  revolvers  at  me.  The  whole  proceedings 
did  not  occupy  five  seconds,  so  sudden  was  the  rush.  All 
were  masked,  even  their  hands  being  covered  with  gloves, 
with  the  fingers  cut  off. 

In  another  instant  the  room  was  filled  with  the  uncanny 
figures.  Apparently  every  man  had  a  place  assigned  him, 
and  in  less  time  than  one  could  think,  every  entrance  to  the 
hotel  bar  room  was  guarded  by  armed  men.  As  the  two 
men  leveled  their  guns  at  me  I  put  up  my  hands,  and  I  want 
to  say  I  stood  at  "attention."  At  the  same  time  two  men 
ran  around  the  bar  room  stove,  and  as  Langdon  sprang  to  his 
feet  one  of  them  struck  him  with  his  pistol.  The  weapon  was 
discharged  and  they  then  emptied  their  revolvers  into  his  body. 
While  this  was  going  on  other  men  placed  a  rope  around  the 
neck  of  Harrison  and  as  he  was  rushed  past  me  he  wailed, 
"For  God's  sake  save  my  life  and  I  will  tell  it  all."  But  I 
saw  no  more  of  him  until  next  morning,  when  he  was  hanging 
under  the  bridge  that  spanned  Crooked  River. 

Twelve  men  were  left  in  the  room  after  the  main  mob  had 
gone.  Not  a  word  was  spoken  until  I  asked  permission  to  go 
to  the  body  of  Langdon  and  straighten  it  out.  Both  men 
bowed,  but  followed  me  closely,  at  no  time  taking  either  their 
eyes  or  revolvers  off  me.  They  were,  however,  very  cool, 
and  I  felt  little  danger  of  an  accidental  discharge  of  their 
weapons.  After  about  twenty  minutes  one  of  the  figures 
gave  a  signal  and  in  an  instant  all  were  gone,  passing  out 
through  two  doors. 

It  was  now  nearly  daylight  and  a  great  crowd  gathered 
about  the  hotel.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  suppressed 
excitement,  but  I  cautioned  all  to  be  prudent  and  not  add 
to  it  by  unguarded  language.  The  mob  appeared  to  be 
thoroughly  organized,  every  man  having  and  occupying  his 


174        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

assigned  place.  This  fact  gave  Harvey  Scott  an  oppor- 
tunity to  declare  in  the  Oregonian  that  I  "was  the  chief  of 
the  vigilantes,  and  could  have  any  man  in  three  counties 
hanged"  that  I  should  order. 

Matters  now  quieted  down  for  a  time  and  it  was  hoped 
that  no  more  such  disgraceful  scenes  would  darken  the  fair 
name  of  our  citizens.  As  time  wore  on  the  gang  again  be- 
came more  bold  and  many  acts  of  outlawry  were  committed. 
Some  time  in  December  a  stock  association  was  organized, 
with  a  constitution  and  by-laws.  It  was  agreed  that  no 
one  should  ride  the  range  without  notifying  the  association. 
Copies  of  the  by-laws  were  sent  to  every  stock  owner  in  the 
county  and  all  were  asked  to  join.  Along  in  January,  about 
the  1  Oth,  as  I  remember,  a  crowd  of  the  rustlers  came  to 
town,  and  after  filling  up  with  bad  whisky  rode  up  and  down 
the  streets,  pistols  in  hand,  and  declared  they  could  take  the 
town  and  burn  it,  and  would  do  so  "if  there  was  any  monkey 
business."  Little  attention  was  paid  to  them,  people  going 
about  their  business,  apparently  unconcerned.  But  that 
night  there  was  "monkey  business."  Three  of  the  gang 
were  hung  to  a  juniper  two  miles  above  town,  while  another 
was  shot  and  killed  in  town.  The  next  morning  notices  were 
found  posted,  with  skull  and  cross-bones  attached,  telling 
all  hard  characters  to  leave  the  county.  There  was  then 
such  a  higera  as  has  seldom  been  witnessed.  Men  not 
before  suspicioned  skipped  the  country.  They  stood  not 
upon  the  order  of  their  going,  but  went — and  went  in  a 
hurry.  Among  the  number  was  an  ex- Justice  of  the  Peace. 

Again  things  quieted  down.  The  county  was  divided, 
courts  organized  and  justice  administered  without  let  or  hin- 
drance. The  reign  of  the  vigilantes  was  over,  and  citizen* 
everywhere  looked  to  the  law  for  protection. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  PASSING  OF  THE  MOGANS. 

A  few  years  previous  to  the  occurrences  before  given, 
two  young  men  arrived  in  the  county  and  gave  their  names 
as  Tom  and  Frank  Page,  being  brothers.  I  gave  one  of 
them,  Frank,  employment  on  my  cattle  ranch,  but  soon  be- 
came satisfied  that  he  was  not  the  right  kind  of  a  man,  and 
discharged  him.  Both  remained  in  the  section,  accepting 
such  employment  as  they  could  obtain.  One  day  a  man 
came  along  and  recognized  the  Page  brothers  as  men  he 
had  known  in  Nevada  under  a  different  name.  Hearing  of 
this,  they  admitted  that  the  name  first  given  was  an  alias, 
and  that  their  true  names  were  Mike  and  Frank  Mogan. 
They  were  a  quarrelsome  pair  and  posed  as  bad  men,  and 
were  not  long  in  involving  themselves  in  trouble  and  were 
shunned  by  the  better  class  of  citizens.  In  a  case  against 
the  younger  of  the  two.  Frank  Mogan,  a  young  lawyer, 
G.  W.  Barnes,  was  employed  as  opposite  counsel.  This 
seemed  to  embitter  both  men  against  Barnes  and  some  threats 
were  made  against  him.  No  attention  was  paid  to  the  mat- 
ter by  Barnes,  but  he  kept  a  watch  on  them  when  in  their 
company. 

Finally  in  the  fall  after  the  last  lynching  Mike  came  to 
town  and  in  order  to  pick  a  quarrel  with  Mr.  Barnes,  began 
to  abuse  his  younger  brother,  a  boy  of  about  1 7  years. 
The  boy  went  to  his  brother  and  told  him  of  Mogan's 
conduct.  He  was  told  that  if  he  associated  with  such  men 
as  Mogan  he  must  suffer  the  consequences.  The  boy  then 


176        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

went  home,  and  securing  an  old  cap  and  ball  revolver,  came 
back  to  the  street.  Mogan  began  on  him  again,  and  after 
suffering  his  abuse  for  some  time,  drew  the  revolver  and  shot 
him  through  the  chest.  Mogan  ran  a  short  distance  and 
drawing  his  revolver,  started  back.  Seeing  that  young 
Barnes  was  ready  for  him,  he  turned  off,  walked  a  short 
distance,  sank  down  and  died  the  next  day.  The  affair 
created  some  excitement.  The  boy  was  arrested  but  sub- 
sequently came  clear. 

At  the  time  of  the  homicide  I  was  out  of  town  and  knew 
nothing  of  the  shooting  until  late  that  night.  The  other 
Mogan  brother,  however,  affected  to  believe  that  I  had 
given  the  revolver  to  the  boy  and  had  told  him  to  use  it. 
I  explained  to  him  the  absurdity  of  the  charge,  proving  to 
him  that  I  was  out  of  town.  This  appeared  to  make  no 
difference,  he  still  holding  a  grudge  against  me  for  dis- 
charging him.  He  made  many  threats  against  my  life,  all 
of  which  were  borne  to  me.  He  declared  he  would  "kill 
me  if  he  had  to  lay  behind  a  sage  brush  and  shoot  me  in 
the  back."  Still  I  paid  no  apparent  attention  to  the  threats, 
being  satisfied  he  would  never  at  any  rate  face  me. 

One  evening  I  was  called  to  the  store  of  Hahne  &  Fried 
to  attend  to  some  business.  It  was  just  after  dark  and  while 
I  was  there  I  was  notified  by  a  friend  that  a  daughter  of 
Judge  Nichols  had  overheard  Mogan  tell  one  of  his  friends 
that  he  had  come  to  town  to  kill  me  and  would  not  leave 
until  he  had  accomplished  his  purpose.  This  was  going  a 
little  too  far,  and  I  determined  to  settle  the  matter  one  way 
or  the  other  at  cur  first  meeting.  The  test  came  sooner 
than  I  anticipated.  On  seeing  me  he  attempted  to  draw 
his  gun  but  was  too  slow,  and  fell  with  more  than  one  bullet 
through  his  body. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         177 

I  sent  for  Sheriff  Geo.  Churchill  and  surrendered  myself 
as  a  prisoner.  He  told  me  to  go  home  and  if  he  wanted 
me  he  would  send  me  word.  The  committing  magistrate,  at 
my  request,  placed  me  under  bonds  to  appear  before  the 
Grand  Jury.  The  announcement  caused  an  uproar  among 
the  throng  with  which  the  court-room  was  packed,  and  I 
was  compelled  to  go  among  them  and  explain  that  it  was 
done  at  my  especial  request.  I  wanted  the  matter  to  come 
up  in  the  Grand  Jury  room  and  so  told  the  people.  The 
Oregonian  published  distorted  and  untruthful  statements 
regarding  the  affair,  and  attorneys  from  every  part  of  the 
State  volunteered  their  services  to  defend  me  free  of  charge. 
I  wrote  to  them,  of  course  thanking  them,  but  told  them 
I  had  no  use  for  attorneys,  as  the  matter  would  never  go 
beyond  the  Grand  Jury,  and  there  it  ended,  the  District 
Attorney,  Mr.  McBride,  proving  my  strongest  witness. 

I  have  gone  somewhat  into  detail  in  this  matter  through 
no  spirit  of  bravado,  for  no  one  could  deplore  the  necessity 
of  my  action  more  than  I.  But  to  show  to  those  who  have 
never  experienced  frontier  life  the  dangers,  difficulties  and 
hardships  through  which  one  must  pass.  It  may  be  said 
that  I  should  have  had  Mogan  arrested  for  threatening  my 
life.  To  such  I  will  say  that  under  all  the  circumstances 
such  a  course  would  only  have  still  more  embittered  the 
situation  and  made  the  end  inevitable.  Another  thing, 
among  frontiersmen  the  man  who  goes  to  law  for  protection 
of  that  kind,  makes  of  himself  a  pusillanimous  object  for 
every  vagabond  to  spit  upon  and  kick.  I  was  not  "built 
that  way." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THE  LOOKOUT  LYNCHING. 

Coming  down  to  a  later  date,  perhaps  no  event  of  its 
character  has  attracted  so  much  comment,  and  been  the 
subject  of  more  gross  misrepresentation  than  the  "Lookout 
Lynching."  I  have,  therefore,  been  asked  to  give  a  true 
account  of  the  deplorable  affair,  the  causes  leading  up  to 
the  same,  and  the  sensational  trial  of  nineteen  citizens  ac- 
cused of  participating  in  the  act. 

To  begin  at  the  beginning:  Along  in  the  early  70's  the 
United  State  government  established  a  military  post  at  Fort 
Crook,  in  Fall  River  valley,  which  was  occupied  by  a  com- 
pany of  cavalry  under  command  of  one  Capt.  Wagner. 
The  post  was  designed  to  afford  protection  to  settlers  against 
depredations  by  hostile  Indians.  Soon  after  the  arrival  of 
the  troops  the  Captain  began  to  cast  eyes  of  favor  on  a  comely 
young  Indian  woman,  the  wife  of  a  Pit  River  brave.  The 
Captain  had  been  sent  to  civilize  the  Indians,  and  was  not 
long  in  taking  the  woman  under  his  protection.  The  arrange- 
ment was  agreeable  to  the  woman,  who  preferred  the  favor 
of  the  white  chief  to  that  of  her  dusky  husband. 

Time  wore  on  and  the  government  concluded  to  abandon 
the  post,  and  ordered  Capt  Wagner  and  his  company  else- 
where. Of  course,  he  could  not  take  the  Indian  woman 
with  him,  and  she  must  be  got  rid  of.  The  means  presented 
itself  in  the  person  of  a  soldier  named  Calvin  Hall,  whose 
term  of  enlistment  had  expired.  He  proposed  to  Hall  that 
if  he  would  take  the  woman  off  his  hands  he,  the  Captain, 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         179 

would  give  him  a  small  portable  sawmill  which  the  gov- 
ernment had  sent  to  the  post  to  saw  lumber  with  which  to 
build  quarters,  etc.  The  arrangement  being  agreeable  to 
Hall,  the  trade  was  made  and  the  woman  and  sawmill 
passed  to  a  different  ownership. 

In  the  course  of  time  Hall  sold  the  sawmill  and  settled 
on  a  piece  of  land  not  far  from  the  present  town  of  Lookout. 
Here  the  two  full  blood  children  of  the  woman  grew  to 
manhood.  Another  child  was  born  to  the  woman,  the 
father  being  a  man  named  Wilson,  with  whom  she  lived 
during  one  of  her  changes  of  lovers,  for  Mary  (her  Chris- 
tian name)  was  a  woman  of  many  loves.  The  half  breed 
boy  was  fifteen  years  old,  and  probably  by  reason  of  envi- 
ronment was  not  a  model.  The  two  full  bloods,  Frank  and 
Jim  Hall,  the  names  by  which  they  were  known,  gradually 
became  looked  upon  as  desperate  characters.  Their  many 
misdeeds  brought  them  into  prominence,  and  frequent  arrests 
followed.  But  somehow  Hall  managed  to  enable  them  to 
escape  the  vengence  of  the  law.  This  only  served  to  make 
them  bolder  in  their  misdeeds.  Cattle  were  killed  and  horses 
mutilated,  merely  because  the  owners  had  incurred  their  en- 
mity. The  school  house  in  the  neighborhood  was  broken 
open,  books  destroyed  and  other  vandal  acts  committed.  In 
fact,  they  became  the  terror  of  the  neighborhood,  the  Hall 
home  being  a  place  of  refuge  and  shelter,  and  Hall  a  pro- 
tector when  arrests  followed  their  crimes. 

This  condition  of  affairs  could  not  exist  for  long.  When 
the  law  fails  to  protect  life  and  property,  I  have  always 
observed  that  men  find  a  way  to  protect  them.  About  a 
year  and  a  half  before  the  finale,  a  gentleman  living  in  Look- 
out visited  Alturas  and  detailed  the  many  misdeeds  of  these 
men  to  me.  One  in  particular  I  remember.  Dr.  Shearer,  a 


180        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

wealthy  stock  man  living  some  distance  this  side  of  Lookout, 
had  employed  some  Indians  in  harvesting  his  hay  crop. 
Frank  Hall  had  a  grievance  against  the  Indians,  and  during 
their  absence  from  their  camp  went  there  and  cut  their 
wagons  and  harness  to  pieces.  The  Indians  trailed  him  to 
within  a  short  distance  of  Halls,  but  were  afraid  to  go  fur- 
ther. They  complained  to  Mr.  Shearer,  who  promptly  sent 
word  to  Frank  Hall  that  if  he  ever  came  on  his  ranch  he, 
Shearer,  would  shoot  him.  Some  time  after  this  Mr. 
Shearer  found  a  saddle  animal  belonging  to  his  wife  cut 
and  mutilated  in  a  most  shameful  manner.  The  horse,  a 
beautiful  animal  and  a  pet,  had  his  ears  and  tail  cut  off, 
while  deep  gashes  were  cut  in  his  side  and  hips.  Mr.  Shearer 
could  not  prove  that  Frank  Hall  committed  the  dastardly 
act,  but  was  more  than  satisfied  of  his  guilt.  This  and 
other  like  acts  were  detailed  to  me,  and  I  wrote  an  article 
for  my  paper  detailing  the  grievances  of  the  people  of  that 
section  and  ending  by  predicting  that,  unless  it  was  stopped, 
"juniper  trees  would  bear  fruit."  My  prediction  came  true 
a  year  and  a  half  later,  only  that  the  Pit  River  bridge  and 
not  the  junipers  bore  the  fruit. 

Some  time  during  the  year  of  1 900  a  man  named  Yantes 
came  to  the  vicinity  of  Lookout  and  took  up  with  the  Halls. 
Later  he  took  Mary,  the  Indian  woman,  away  from  old  man 
Hall,  and  lived  with  her  on  a  ranch  he  had  located.  He 
carried  a  big  gun  and  posed  as  a  bad  man,  and  of  course 
found  genial  companionship  in  the  sons  of  the  Indian  woman. 
The  coming  of  Yantes  seemed  to  add  to  the  boldness  and 
reckless  conduct  of  Frank  and  Jim  Hall  and  the  half-breed 
boy  Wilson.  Along  towards  the  last  of  May,  1901 ,  a  bur- 
glary was  committed  in  the  neighborhood.  Of  course  the 
Hall  crowd  was  suspected  and  a  search  warrant  obtained. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         181 

At  the  Hall  home  several  of  the  articles  were  found,  as  well 
as  on  the  persons  of  the  men.  The  hides  and  meat  of  ani- 
mals recently  killed  were  found  at  the  Hall  and  Yantes 
homes  and  the  brands  identified  by  the  owner.  This  dis- 
covery led  to  the  arrest  of  the  entire  gang,  including  Hall 
and  the  half-breed  boy  Wilson.  They  were  taken  to  Look- 
out and  a  guard  placed  over  them. 

The  Grand  Jury  was  in  session  at  Alturas,  and  next 
morning  R.  E.  Leventon  and  Isom  Eades  came  to  Alturas 
to  secure  the  indictment  of  the  men.  The  proof  was  positive, 
and  they  felt  that  at  last  a  conviction  could  be  secured.  But 
unfortunately  the  Grand  Jury  adjourned  that  morning.  They 
then  applied  to  the  District  Attorney  to  go  to  Lookout  and 
prosecute  the  criminals.  But  Mr.  Bonner  had  a  case  com- 
ing up  at  Lake  City,  and  the  Justice  refusing  to  postpone  it, 
could  not  go.  The  matter  was  finally  arranged  by  the 
appointment  by  Mr.  Bonner  of  C.  C.  Auble,  an  Adin  attor- 
ney, as  a  special  deputy  to  prosecute  the  cases.  The  ap- 
pointment was  made  out  and  given  to  Leventon  and  Eades, 
but  Mr.  Bonner,  a  young  lawyer  and  serving  his  first  term, 
made  the  fatal  mistake  of  instructing  Mr.  Auble  to  dismiss 
the  charge  of  burglary  and  rearrest  the  men  for  petty  larceny. 

During  all  this  time  the  five  men,  two  white  men,  the  half- 
breed  boy  and  the  two  Indians,  were  held  under  guard,  the 
bar  room  of  the  hotel  being  used  for  the  purpose.  When 
it  became  known  that  the  prisoners  were  merely  to  be  prose- 
cuted for  the  smaller  crime,  the  whole  country  became 
aroused.  Both  Yantes  and  the  Halls  made  threats  of  dire 
vengeance  upon  those  instrumental  in  their  arrest.  They 
declared  they  would  get  even  as  soon  as  they  were  free.  All 
knew  the  Indians  and  Yantes  to  be  desperate  men,  and  to 
turn  them  loose  would  be  equivalent  to  applying  the  torch  to 


182         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

their  homes,  if  not  the  knife  to  their  throats.  Accordingly 
at  the  hour  of  1  :30  on  the  morning  of  May  3 1st  a  rush  was 
made  by  masked  men,  the  prisoners  taken  from  the  guards 
and  all  five  hung  to  the  railing  of  the  Pit  River  bridge. 

The  news  spread  like  wildfire  and  created  intense  excite- 
ment throughout  the  county  and  State.  The  great  papers, 
in  two  column  headlines,  told  of  the  "wiping  out  of  a  whole 
family."  "An  old  man,"  said  they,  "his  three  sons  and  his 
son-in-law,"  were  ruthlessly  hung  for  a  petty  crime,  the 
stealing  of  a  few  straps  of  leather.  In  Modoc  county  the 
sentiment  of  nine-tenths  of  the  people  was  that  the  leaders 
of  the  mob  should  be  punished.  Young  Bonner  had  made 
a  mistake,  due  doubtless  to  youth  and  inexperience,  but  it 
remained  for  Superior  Judge  Harrington  to  make  a  still  more 
serious  one. 

Judge  Harrington  wrote  to  the  Attorney-General  asking 
that  detectives  and  a  special  prosecutor  be  sent  to  investigate 
and  prosecute  the  case  against  the  lynchers.  He  also  called 
the  Grand  Jury  together  in  special  session.  But  there  never 
was  any  evidence. 

The  Grand  Jury  convened  on  June  10th,  and  a  host  of 
witnesses  were  in  attendance. 

The  result  of  the  Grand  Jury  session  was  the  returning  of 
indictments  against  R.  E.  Leventon,  Isom  Eades  and  James 
Brown.  As  the  case  against  Brown  appeared  to  be  the  best, 
he  was  "brought  to  trial"  November  21,  1901.  Assistant 
Attorney-General  Post  and  Deputy  Attorney  George  Stur- 
tevant  were  sent  from  the  Attorney-General's  office  to  prose- 
cute the  case.  The  prisoner  was  defended  by  ex- Judge  G. 
F.  Harris,  E.  V.  Spencer  and  John  E.  Raker. 

Soon  after  the  trial  began  Judge  Post  sent  for  a  noted 
gunfighter  named  Danny  Miller.  And  during  all  those  weary 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         183 

three  months  of  the  trial  he  could  be  seen  trotting  around 
after  Post,  his  mustache  turned  up,  a  la  William  of  Ger- 
many, like  a  rat  terrier  following  a  mastiff,  to  the  infinite 
amusement  of  the  small  boy  and  utter  disgust  of  sensible 
men.  Gibson,  the  noted  San  Francisco  detective,  was  here, 
assisted  by  other  detectives  and  a  dozen  or  more  local  head 
hunters,  who  were  after  a  share  of  the  big  reward.  District 
Attorney  Bonner  was  pushed  aside  and  completely  ignored. 
He  was  not  even  given  an  insight  into  what  was  going  on. 
In  justice  to  Mr.  Sturtevant  I  want  to  say  that  he  had  no 
hand  in  the  high-handed  measures  adopted  by  Post  and  Har- 
rington. And  had  he  been  in  control  the  result  of  the  Brown 
trial  might  have  ended  differently.  Indeed,  so  favorably 
were  the  people  of  Modoc  impressed  with  Mr.  Sturtevant 
that  members  of  both  parties — prominent  citizens — went  to 
him  and  offered  him  the  Superior  Judgeship  at  the  coming 
fall  election.  For  reasons  of  his  own  he  declined,  and  before 
the  end  of  the  Brown  trial  left  in  disgust. 

At  one  stage  of  the  proceedings  there  was  talk  of  sup- 
plying troops  from  the  National  Guard  to  preserve  order. 
And  yet  there  had  at  no  time  been  a  breach  of  the  peace  or 
threats  made  except  by  the  man  Miller.  On  one  occasion 
Miller  drew  a  revolver  in  the  court  room  and  attempted  to 
shoot  Attorney  Raker.  At  another  time  he  beat  a  young 
man  named  Russell  over  the  head  with  a  gun  for  some  fan- 
cied offense.  A  brother  of  young  Russell  kept  the  principal 
hotel  in  the  town,  and  both  had  been  open  in  their  denun- 
ciation of  the  lynchers.  I  mention  these  facts  to  show  why 
it  was  that  the  citizens  of  the  county  turned  from  nine-tenths 
in  favor  of  prosecuting  the  lynchers  to  the  utmost  limit,  to 
nine-tenths  the  other  way. 

Early  in  January  Detective  Gibson  went  to  a  young  man 


184         REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

who  was  stranded  in  Alturas  with  his  wife  and  offered  him 
a  portion  of  the  reward,  amounting  to  $900,  to  testify  to  a 
certain  matter.  The  young  man  and  his  wife  were  working 
for  their  board,  but  he  told  Gibson  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  matter  and  that  poor  as  he  was  he  would  not  swear  to  a 
falsehood.  Gibson  went  away,  but  returned  a  few  nights 
later  and  again  tried  to  get  him  to  testify,  saying  that  the 
men  were  guilty  and  that  no  one  would  ever  be  the  wiser. 
Slavin  (the  young  man's  name)  then  told  Gibson  that  if  he 
ever  came  to  his  home  with  such  a  proposal  that  he,  Slavin, 
would  shoot  him  like  a  dog.  All  these  attempts  at  bribery 
soon  became  known  and  filled  citizens  everywhere  with  con- 
sternation. They  argued  that  under  such  methods  an  inno- 
cent man  might  be  sacrificed  that  a  lot  of  head  hunters  could 
gain  a  big  reward. 

On  January  4th,  1902,  Mary  Lorenz,  a  half  breed 
daughter  of  old  Mary  Hall,  swore  to  a  warrant  charging 
fifteen  others  with  complicity  in  the  lynching.  All  were  ar- 
rested, but  not  one  was  found  to  be  armed.  They  were 
placed  in  jail,  and  on  the  1  Oth  indictments  were  filed  charg- 
ing each  one  with  five  different  murders. 

The  causes  leading  to  these  arrests  were  said  to  be  the 
confessions  of  John  Hutton  and  Claude  Morris. 

It  subsequently  developed  that  Morris  was  taken  to  a 
room,  there  plied  with  whisky  by  the  detectives,  aided  by 
Simmons,  and  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  signed  an  affi- 
davit that  had  been  prepared  for  him.  After  he  regained 
consciousness  he  denied  the  whole  thing,  but  was  told  that 
he  would  be  sent  to  the  penitentiary  for  perjury  if  he  went 
back  on  the  confession  he  had  signed  before  a  notary  public. 
Under  the  circumstances  the  poor,  weak  boy,  kept  under 
guard  and  away  from  friends  and  relatives,  was  compelled 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         185 

to  stick  to  the  evidence  that  had  been  prepared  for  him. 

As  the  trial  of  Brown  dragged  its  "slimy  length  along," 
the  scences  in  the  court  room  at  times  beggared  description. 
Harrington,  badgered  by  the  attorneys  for  the  defense, 
raved  like  a  madman,  and  generally  ended  by  sending  one 
or  more  of  the  attorneys  for  Brown  to  jail.  He  refused  to 
permit  any  evidence  to  be  introduced  for  the  purpose  of 
impeachment.  Disinterested  men  were  brought  from  Tule 
Lake  to  prove  that  the  boy  Hutton  was  on  his  way  to  Look- 
out from  that  place  when  the  lynching  took  place.  Another 
witness  was  placed  on  the  stand  and  testified  that  he  stood 
on  the  ground,  back  of  Leventon's  shop  and  saw  certain  of 
the  accused,  among  them  Brown,  and  heard  them  plotting. 
Harrington  refused  to  permit  any  evidence  to  be  introduced 
tending  to  impeach  the  witness. 

When  Harrington  would  rule  against  the  admission  of 
this  evidence,  Harris,  Raker  or  Spencer  would  argue  the 
point  and  manage  to  get  the  evidence  before  the  jury  and 
end  by  going  to  jail.  The  attorneys  took  turns  going  to 
jail,  but  managed  for  one  to  remain  outside  to  conduct  the 
case.  Thus  wore  away  the  weary  months  until  the  jury 
brought  in  a  verdict  of  "not  guilty."  In  conversation  with 
one  of  the  jurymen  that  morning  he  stated  that  the  character 
of  the  witnesses  for  the  prosecution  was  enough.  They  were 
Indians,  half-breeds,  and  disreputable  characters  of  every 
shade  and  degree. 

The  morning  after  the  verdict  was  rendered  not  one  of 
these  creatures  could  be  found.  During  the  night  they  had 
fled  and  scattered  like  a  covey  of  quail.  They  feared  arrest 
for  perjury,  of  which  they  were  guilty.  All  that  remained 
the  next  morning  was  General  Post  and  his  gun  man,  Danny 
Miller.  They  took  the  stage  after  breakfast  and  were  seen 


186        REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER 

no  more.     The  prisoners  were  discharged  one  and  two  and 
three  at  a  time  and  quietly  returned  to  their  homes. 

Thus  ended  the  dreary  farce  of  the  prosecution  of  the 
Lookout  lynchers.  It  had  cost  the  county  about  $40,000 
and  had  accomplished  nothing,  save  to  blacken  the  char- 
acter of  our  citizens  and  cause  the  outside  world  to  look 
upon  us  as  outlaws  and  desperadoes. 


REMINISCENCES  OF  A  PIONEER         187 


CONCLUSION. 

The  events  here  recorded  were  seen  with  my  own  eyes, 
or  were  received  from  the  lips  of  the  actors  therein.  Hun- 
dreds of  men  and  boys  passed  through  equal  or  greater  dan- 
gers and  privations  than  I,  and  are  entitled  to  equal  or  greater 
credit.  Reared  in  the  wilderness  and  on  the  frontier  of  civ- 
ilization, I  was  merely  the  product  of  environment,  and  lay 
claim  to  no  particular  distinction  above  those  who  were  my 
companions.  And  yet,  as  I  look  back  over  the  past,  I  must 
be  excused  for  a  feeling  of  pride  in  having  been  a  part,  how- 
ever insignificant,  in  the  building  here  on  the  western  rim  of 
the  continent,  of  the  mighty  Empire  of  the  Pacific. 

To  have  seen  proud  cities  rear  their  heads  from  a  wilder- 
ness— from  a  cluster  of  log  huts  in  a  primeval  forest — whose 
everlasting  stillness  was  alone  broken  by  the  yells  of  savage 
men,  the  long  howl  of  the  wolf  and  the  scream  of  the  pan- 
ther— is  something  to  have  lived  for. 

And  yet  I  question  if  those  who  now  possess  this  land  of 
plenty — this  land  of  "milk  and  honey" — ever  give  a  thought 
for  those  who  "Conquered  the  Wilderness"  and  made  it  a 
fit  and  safe  abode  for  the  millions  of  civilized  men  and 
women  who  now  enjoy  its  blessings. 


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